In the Middle of a Memory
by Brisingr364
Summary: Eight years ago, Charles and Erik were the top celebrity couple. Hollywood conspired against them and their relationship ended. Now Erik's back. Charles has moved on. Both are still in love but can they find their way back to each other with all the troubles and challenges that life still has to throw at them?
1. Chapter 1

"All right, that's the last of it." Charles Xavier stepped back and smiled at the joy on the child's face even as he registered the presence of his sister walking up the hall. "Raven, what do you think of Eva's costume? Take a twirl, sweetie, go on."

The six-year-old beamed as she spun in a circle, the dress billowing up around her as she did.

Smiling down at her, Raven asked, "And who might you be?"

Eva responded, "I'm a faiwy pwincess!" and spun again, glitter flying from her fake wand.

Charles and Raven exchanged smiles. "You make a beautiful fairy princess," Raven informed her solemnly and Eva favored her with a toothy smile.

"Okay, time to take it off. We'd hate to have a princess with a ripped dress, now wouldn't we?" Charles said, reaching to pull the dress over the girl's head. "Just a moment, Ray."

Raven nodded and went to lean against the counter. Eva squirmed free and dashed off, _still holding her fairy wand_ , Charles noted with a sigh and made a mental note to get her a spare one. Or several. He moved behind the desk and started folding the dress. Leaning over the counter briefly, he gave his sister a peck on the cheek. "Hello, Raven. How are you?"

"Can't complain. Although now I understand how I won all those costume contests as a kid."

Charles grinned at her as he put the costume in a box on the desk with Eva's name on it. "You're welcome." The phone rang and he paused and turned slightly, waiting. Mark picked up on the second ring and he turned back to his sister. "Did you come all this way just to say hi or was there something you needed?"

Raven scoffed. "Can't a girl just say hi to her brother?"

" _Raven._ "

"Fine." She leveled her gaze at him. "I need a favor."

 _There it is._ Charles frowned. "What is it?"

"I need you to be my date on the 30th."

He opened his mouth to ask what for but then the date registered and he said something else instead. "Wait, the 30th? As in October 30th, five days from now?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Charles sighed. "Raven, you know I have plans that day. It's the Halloween party here at the center. I can't just not come."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm the adult here. I own the place, I'm holding the party so I have to be here. For legal reasons. Besides, why don't you ask Hank to be your date? He likes you."

"Ugh," Raven rolled her eyes dramatically. "He's just so _blah_. And he won't be any fun at the premiere."

Charles picked up the box but stopped. "Premiere?" he repeated, suddenly wary. She wouldn't. "A _film_ premiere?"

"Yeah. I have an extra ticket."

"Where'd you get the tickets?"

Raven shrugged. "Through the company. Wanna come?"

He eyed her. "Which film?"

Her face was all innocence as she replied, " _Battle Magic_."

An instinctive _no_ was on his lips when Mark interrupted from the back room. "Um, Charles?"

"Yes?"

"Um, there's a, uh, woman who. . . well. She wants to. . . it's for you."

Charles set the box back down on the desk, took the phone and mouthed _no_ at his sister before stepping into the back room. "Hello, this is Charles Xavier, how can I help you?"

Keeping half an eye on Raven and Mark out in the reception area, he listened to the woman's long spiel about having sports items that she had stored away because her kids no longer wanted them. Charles agreed to take them, telling her when he would be available, and then scribbled a quick note for Mark. And a mental note to teach the young man how to properly answer a phone call. Hanging up, Charles blew out his breath. Right then. He got up and headed back out, note in hand. "Mark?"

The young man spun in his chair as Charles said, "Mark, if a woman stops by and says she has sports equipment to donate, call me. I'm expecting her." He handed over the note and Mark nodded. Charles picked up the costume box. "Walk with me, Raven?"

Raven waited until they had rounded the corner out of earshot before continuing their earlier conversation. "So you'll come to the premiere?"

"No. I will not. Take Angel if you don't want to take Hank; she loves dressing up."

"Come on, you know you love the red carpet!"

"Correction: I love _watching_ red carpets. Not attending." Not anymore. She would not change his mind on this. He'd had plenty of those to last a lifetime.

"Why won't you come?" Her voice was edging towards whiney little sister and he gritted his teeth.

"You do know who's starring in _Battle Magic_ , yes?"

"Yeah, and your point. . . ?"

"And he's exactly why I won't go!" Charles shoved open the door to his office, a tad harder than needed. "I won't ruin his evening."

Raven sighed, closing the door. "How could you possibly ruin his evening?"

Charles set the box with the others in the corner and turned to her, crossing his arms. "It will start off pleasant, if awkward, but it will quickly and inevitably turn into a fight in which one or both of us will storm off and his night will be ruined. Because of me. I will be at the Halloween party, having fun with the children."

"Come on, that is, like, worst case scenario, at best."

"The answer is still no."

"Ugh, you are so stubborn!"

Charles turned his back on her and started rifling through his cabinets for donation forms. Donations were tax deductible for the donator. "I will have nothing to do with that man, Raven. End of story."

"But I had the extra ticket all earmarked for you!"

"Take Angel. Or Hank, or any of your other friends. I'm sure they'd all love to see him. I, however, do not." Where the bloody hell were those forms? He slammed a drawer shut and yanked open another.

"You're being ridiculous!" Raven snapped and stomped out.

Charles waited a few seconds to make sure she was gone before slumping into his chair, his head in his hands. How could she ask this of him? She knew how he felt about . . . what had happened. Lifting his head, he leaned it against the back of the chair and his gaze drifted to a photo on his desk.

A sad smile crossed his lips. If only things had gone differently. . .

His office phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. That led to another search for forms and soon Charles was busy, all thoughts of the film premiere gone.

* * *

"He's not coming."

"Are you sure? How hard did you try?"

Raven glanced back at her brother's community center as she stepped into the cab. "Well, I tried not to mention the film or, you know, you specifically, but he flat out asked me and then that was that. So. Yeah."

The person on the other end sighed heavily. "Still hurt, then?"

"Well, I wouldn't call it that, exactly, but. . . yeah. I think it's more of a mix of hurt and anger. He thinks you'll end up fighting and then ruin your night. So he doesn't want to come. Sorry."

"I guess it was too much to hope we could try and fix things just like that. Does he hate me?"

"No! Well . . . maybe. I don't think so. But you two still need to talk. Just, you know, not Sunday. Catch him on his home turf, so to speak, where he's comfortable."

"Okay." There was a pause, then, "You're still coming, right? I'd like to see you again, Raven."

Raven grinned. "I will most definitely be there. I'm looking forward to seeing you again, too, Erik."

* * *

"Charles, you have to pick a costume, for god's sake!" Moira frowned at him, hands on her hips. "You can't show up to a Halloween party without a costume."

He slumped further on his couch and sipped his tea. "Without you there, I have no idea what to wear. We usually do couples' costumes."

"Oh for. . . " Moira set her wine glass down and sat next to him. "There are plenty of singles costumes out there; you just have to _pick_ one." He shrugged and she sighed. "Does Raven have any ideas?"

Charles said quietly, "She's not talking to me right now."

Moira repeated, "She's not . . . talking. To you. Why not? What happened?"

He made a face. "I'd rather not say."

Moira plucked his mug from his hands. "Too late. Spill."

He straightened and reluctantly said, "Okay. She wants me to go to this film premiere with her on Sunday, I said no, she got mad, and we haven't talked since."

Moira studied him for a minute. "What aren't you telling me?"

Charles laughed a little. "How do you do that?"

"We've been friends for years, Charles, and I know when you're hedging. Come on, out with it."

He mumbled, "'serk."

She blinked. "What?"

Sighing, Charles said a little louder, "It's Erik. It's his movie premiering and I don't want to see him, happy now?"

"Much." Moira drank some wine. "Now, why did you say no? And don't give me that bull about wanting to be at the party," she interrupted as he opened his mouth to say just that. "You and I both know that it will go perfectly well whether you're there or not."

Charles clutched a pillow to his chest. "I don't know. I just. . . it still hurts to see him. I don't know if I can handle a televised red carpet premiere."

"So you could handle a less public meeting?"

He frowned. "Not what I meant, Moira."

She grinned. "But it's what you implied."

Charles stuck his tongue out at her and she giggled before throwing an arm around him, tugging him close. He rested his head on her shoulder and the two of them sat there in silence for a couple minutes. Eventually, Moira said, "Okay, enough wallowing. I'll go get us both some more wine and you pick the movie." She kissed his cheek as she rose and he smiled fondly after her as he slid to the floor to pick out a movie, purposely ignoring the section with Erik's movies.

* * *

"Put the hood on, jeez."

Charles made a face. "It doesn't look right. I'm too short for this."

Moira frowned. "Charles, the outfit is not complete until you put on the hood. Come on; have a little fun! It _is_ Halloween, after all."

"Yes, and you're ditching me!" He reluctantly flicked the green hood up over his head. He felt ridiculous. At least she hadn't insisted on the accompanying mask. It itched far too much.

"Now the bow, come on. Photo op!"

"I hate you."

Moira flapped a hand impatiently. "Yeah, yeah, you love me. Bow. Now."

With a heavy sigh, Charles picked up the bow from his desk and nocked an arrow, aiming it at his best friend. For a brief moment he wanted to fire. . . too bad it had a suction cup at the end instead of an arrowhead. "Happy?"

"Perfect!" Moira grinned as she took several photos. He had wanted to post pictures of the kids' costumes on the walls and she insisted that he be included in them. It was hard to say no to Moira when she got in one of her moods.

Charles asked, "Why am I dressed as Green Arrow again? And please don't say it's because you're lusting after Stephen Amell. . . although he is _very_ handsome, I will give you that."

"Ha ha, Charles." Moira lowered her phone thankfully and he lowered the bow as well. How the hell was he supposed to carry this thing all night? "Green Arrow is a singles costume—which you wanted. He is also bad-ass because he has no supernatural abilities beyond expert archery skills and shit tons of money. Like you, minus archery skills." She moved closer and flicked his hood back an inch. "You make a cute Green Arrow."

He stabbed her with the suction cup arrow and she laughed, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "I have to go. You have fun with the kiddies. Try not to fall under some witch's spell."

Charles shook his head, fighting a smile. Moira never failed to lift his spirits. "I wish you would stay."

She replied, "I know and I'll try to swing by tomorrow to help with the cleanup." She put her coat on and he walked with her to the front doors. "Have fun, Charles."

"You too, Moira. And be safe." Charles watched her leave, took a deep breath, turned and headed for the gymnasium where the party was to be held in a few minutes.

An hour into the party, Charles got a text from his sister containing a photo—a selfie of her and Angel in their dresses, walking the red carpet and looking like they were having the best time of their lives. His throat felt tight as he sent a message back, telling her how beautiful they looked and he hoped they had fun.

As soon as he could, Charles ducked into his office and pulled up the live stream of the premiere, dumping the quiver and bow on the floor so he could sit. He told himself it was strictly to see the girls. That was it. No other reason. It finally loaded on a female reporter interviewing what looked to be the female star of the movie. Didn't look like Erik had arrived yet. He shook his head. He wasn't looking for Erik. He was looking for Raven and Angel.

The fans lining the carpet suddenly started screaming louder and his heart skipped a beat. _Oh god oh god oh god_.

The reporter turned, interrupted midsentence by the fans, and smiled widely at the camera. "Ladies and gentlemen, it looks like the star of the night has finally arrived! Erik Lensherr plays Briar Goldeye in the new film _Battle Magic_ , being shown here tonight, and it looks like, yes, he's just stepping onto the carpet for photos. No, wait, he's heading for the fans lining the edge. Most of these folks have been here since yesterday, sleeping outside in the cold."

Charles remembered to breathe.

The stream switched to a male reporter. "What a fan favorite, Erik Lensherr is, always spending a bit of time to sign autographs or take a photo."

As he started in on Erik's film career, Charles tuned him out. He knew all of that. Knew every part of Erik's filmography. Intimately.

Erik looked fantastic in that black tuxedo. In fact. . . Charles frowned. "Is that. . ." The one he wore to the first premiere they attended together. Back when they were just starting out in Hollywood.

Eight years and it still hurt like it had just happened yesterday. How was that even possible? He took a shaky breath. _I loved you, why did you leave me. . . ?_

"And here he comes. . ." the female reporter was back on. "Erik, good to see you. How are you doing tonight? Excited, nervous?"

Erik grinned, showing his teeth. He laughed a little. "Good to see you, Michelle. Good to be back. I'm good, I'm good. Yeah, I guess you could say I'm a little of both tonight. You know, it's always that way with a new film getting released. You're excited because it's yours, you've spent time on it, you know you think it's good but you don't know what the public will think of it and that's rather nerve-wracking. Will they like it? Will they hate it? You never really know until you put it out there." He chuckled. "And I'm just an actor. I can't imagine what the director or writers are feeling."

"You said it was good to be back. Did you mean Palace Theatre or New York in general?"

"New York." Charles could swear Erik was looking right through the screen at him when Erik said, "It's been a while since I've been back here and I'm looking forward to getting reacquainted."

Someone shouted his name off camera and Erik spun, eyes wide in surprise. Charles let out a pained sound as Raven appeared—looking absolutely stunning in a floor length dark red dress—and Erik pulled her into a hug. Charles closed his eyes, swallowing against a tight throat. He should never have turned it on. Never should have even given himself the option of seeing Erik in real time, even through a computer screen.

Smiling widely, Michelle asked, "Who are these stunning beauties, Erik? Lucky fans who won a contest?"

Erik turned back to her and the camera, Raven and Angel on either side. "These are old friends of mine I haven't seen in years. Raven and Angel."

Michelle nodded knowingly. "So this is what you meant when you said you wanted to get reacquainted."

"Something like that." Erik's expression stiffened and a cloud passed over his eyes, so brief that Charles thought he'd imagined it. But the actor quickly reinstated his red carpet/interview persona.

Michelle held her microphone out to Raven and asked her about something Erik-related but Charles was beyond hearing. He slapped the keyboard, shutting the browser down, and just sat there, breathing hard.

He was over Erik. He was. He had to be.

And it was perfectly okay for Raven to hang out with him because. . . because she. . .

" _Argh!_ " There was no way for him to be okay with that. She was his sister and should be on his side, no matter what.

Where was Moira when he needed her? She'd probably just say _I told you so_ but he deserved that.

"Mistah Chawles?"

Charles swiped a hand across his eyes and looked up. "Yes, dear?"

Little Eva stood in the door. "My dwess wipped." She held up the hem, valiantly fighting back tears.

Duty calls. Charles cleared his throat, sniffed and stood. "Well we can't have that. Let's go find my sewing things and we'll fix that right up, what do you think about that, hmm, Eva?" He scooped the six-year-old into his arms and headed for the infirmary.


	2. Chapter 2

Moira ran a mop across the cafeteria floor as she ventured, "You're rather quiet today."

Charles shrugged, dragging a garbage can over to the buffet table he'd set out for the party last night. "Am I? I suppose I've just got a lot on my mind." Community center things, Erik, Raven, the university wanted him back next semester and he had to work it into his already busy schedule, Erik. . .

"You always have a lot on your mind. This is different. You're. . . I don't know, not quiet, exactly, but more like. . ." Moira studied him. "Subdued."

He glanced at her, an eyebrow raised. "Subdued?"

She dropped her mop with a _thunk._ "Oh my god, you didn't."

Charles blinked. "What?"

"You did, didn't you! I told you not to and you went ahead and did it anyway. I told you it was a bad idea, Charles."

Thoroughly confused now, Charles asked, "What did I do?"

She joined him at the table as he gathered used plastic plates and cups together. "Watched the red carpet last night."

He sighed and she made a frustrated noise. "I didn't mean to!" he defended, shoving things into the can. "Raven sent me photo of her and Angel and I wanted to see if the cameras caught them. That was all." _Liar,_ his brain told him.

"And did you see them?"

Reluctantly, Charles told her, "Yes. When they crashed Erik's live interview."

Moira winced. "Ouch. I'm sorry."

Charles sighed again. "It's not supposed to still bother me. I'm supposed to have moved on, gotten over him." He shoved another pile into the garbage, a couple items bouncing off onto the floor with the force.

It was only when Moira pulled him into a hug, squeezing tight, that he realized he was crying. She said softly, "He was a big part of your life for so long. You're allowed to still hurt, Charles."

"Eight years later?" he asked, pained, and hugged her back.

"Well, it doesn't help that you still see his face everywhere . . . on billboards, in the news, on magazine covers."

"Thank you so much for reminding me of why I lost him," Charles shot back bitterly.

"Oh hush. I'm trying to be comforting here."

His voice softened. "I know. And I do appreciate it." Sniffling a little, Charles continued, "I didn't think it would be this hard to see him again, to hear his voice. I just keep remembering what could have been and it just hurts. So. _Much_." His voice cracked on the last word.

Moira's grip tightened as the tears flowed down his cheeks. Eventually, he stopped crying and pulled back, wiping his face with his sleeves. "Okay," he said, his voice a little shaky. "Now that _that's_ done with, let's finish cleaning up. I've got a meeting this afternoon I can't miss."

Moira kissed his cheek. "And then tonight you and I will go out for drinks."

Charles shot her a surprised look. "But it's Monday."

She shrugged, smiling. "Yeah, and?"

He laughed a little. "Fine. Same place?"

"Oh, yeah. You need a little of Riptide's tonight." She grinned and went to pick her mop back up.

Charles watched her for a minute, more thankful than ever that she was his best friend. He never would have gotten through the fallout if it weren't for her and Raven. Although. . . Raven might be switching sides.

He shook his head abruptly. Nope. Not going there. Not right now. Charles bent down and picked up a couple plates and a cup, tossing them into the garbage can as he got back to work.

* * *

So this was Charles' community center Raven had told him about. Erik smiled, adjusted his cap, and headed inside. It had been a little over a week since the premiere so he'd had some time to think about how to approach things. Not that anything he'd come up with was actually any good. They usually involved him attempting to force Charles to talk to him—a guaranteed bad idea but he had nothing better. He finally settled on what Raven suggested—just stopping by on his home turf. Leaning on the counter, Erik said, "Excuse me, I'm looking for Charles Xavier."

The kid—young man, really—looked up in surprise. "Who are you?"

Well, that was a surprise. Apparently he didn't watch movies all that often. "My name's Erik and Charles is a very dear friend of mine. Could you tell me where to find him?" There. He could do polite.

The young man shook his head slowly. "No?"

Erik lifted an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"Um, well, uh, so, we have a lot of foster kids here and um. . ."

The fuck? Then it clicked. "You think I'm a parent who's not supposed to be here, right?" When he nodded, Erik said, "I'm not a parent. As I said, Charles is a friend of mine. I just want to say hi."

"Do you have ID?"

Erik gritted his teeth and tried not to growl. "Why?"

The kid flinched anyway. "'s the rules."

He sighed. "Fine." He yanked out his wallet and handed over his driver's license. "Where's Charles?" That came out as a growl.

The kid shrunk back and pointed. "He's in the gym. Take the second right then first left. You'll hear them."

"Thanks." Erik stalked off. Charles had airheads working for him. Great. He took the second right then rounded the final corner and the sound hit him. Lots of voices, yelling and screaming. Erik pushed open the door that seemed to be the center of the sound and it multiplied, accosting his senses so that he had to take a moment before shutting the door.

Beyond the door was a short aisle along the bleachers and he walked slowly until he reached the end and leaned against the wall. Two groups of kids sat on the bleachers on both sides of the gym, a wide range of ages. The rest appeared to be playing kickball. There were the usual basemen, with someone on second base who was prepared to run, a shortstop, three outfielders, a catcher and . . .

Charles was pitching.

Erik tugged his hat lower, hoping to watch unnoticed for a bit. Charles looked good as he bounced the ball, waiting for a kicker to come up to home plate. Jeans and a button-up, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, hair flopping in his face, eyes sparkling with happiness, face flushed. Erik's heart skipped a beat at the sight.

"Okay, who's next? Come on, we need a kicker!" Charles was calling out, looking at the group on the opposite side from where Erik stood. Finally a kid stood up, pale, short brown hair, thin, clearly hesitant.

The kid stepped up to home plate and Charles smiled encouragingly. "Okay, Scott, I'm going to throw the ball nice and slow. All you have to do is kick it and run, got it?" Scott nodded and Charles rolled the ball.

Scott swung and the ball bounced right past the shortstop—Erik noted that the girl intentionally moved out of its way. Scott took off to screams and shouts, hitting first base as the kid at second hit third before Charles got the ball back.

"Well done, Scott! Excellent kick!" Charles said with a huge grin. "Okay, who's next? Who hasn't kicked yet?"

Erik smiled as the kids all started clamoring for Charles to take a turn. When an older boy with black hair and an earring ran out onto the court, Charles laughed and handed the ball over, raising his hands in defeat. Charles jogged across to home plate and turned, presenting Erik with a very nice view of his ass. He missed that view.

"Go easy on me," Charles called. The kids all laughed and Erik chuckled a little, shoving his hands in his pockets.

The new pitcher called back, "I'd ask them to move in but I don't think there's space!"

"Very funny, Bobby," Charles called back, leaning a leg back. The ball rolled. Charles swung. And missed. More laughter, Charles joining in.

Erik's smile widened. It was obvious that Charles loved these children and they felt the same way. It was always like that—Charles had this amazing ability to make friends with anyone he met, no matter their age. This time when the pitch came, Charles sent it flying between first and second base and ran. The one on third scored, Scott moved to third and Charles darted on to second before the ball reached Bobby, stopping play. Then it stalled because they didn't have anyone else and they didn't appear to want to end the fun quite yet.

A crazy idea suddenly occurred to him. _Here goes nothing._ Erik started peeling his coat off as Charles said, "Who wants to kick? Doesn't matter which team you're on!"

Erik draped his hat and coat over the bleacher railing and called out, "Mind if I play?"

He could see it.

The instant Charles recognized him.

The children grew quiet, staring at the strange man walking out to them, and Charles absolutely froze, like a deer in the headlights, the light in his eyes dimming. Erik smiled at him and casually walked up to home plate, rolling his sleeves as he went. Whispers broke out amongst the older kids, eyeing him as he walked and whispering amongst themselves—Erik knew he'd been recognized. He could only hope they wouldn't mob him for selfies. He wanted to focus on Charles, on being a regular guy for him. Catching Bobby's eye, Erik said, "It's been quite a while since I've played kickball."

Bobby glanced back at Charles who nodded, once, his gaze never leaving Erik. Bobby called out, "You get three throws and then you're out." Erik nodded and everyone settled down a bit. When it came, Erik swung early, purposely missing the ball completely. Tentative giggles greeted him, a bit of the tension dissipating. Second throw, Erik kicked it right into the bleachers. More giggles, louder this time.

Erik's foot collided with the ball on the third throw, sending it flying into the backboard dangling from the ceiling—an instant home run, by gym standards. Erik took off, watching Scott hurry towards home. His foot touched first base and he headed for second. . . where Charles was still standing, staring at him. Had he really been that thrown by Erik's sudden appearance? When they were in reach, Erik grabbed his arm, dragging along, and murmured, "Run, Charles."

A few steps later, Charles jerked his arm free and shot ahead, rounding third and going faster until he reached home plate just as Erik hit third. By the time Erik reached home plate, Charles was hugging Scott, congratulating him as the boy buried his face in Charles' stomach. Children surrounded them and after a moment, Erik managed to catch Charles' eye and asked, "Can we talk?"

Charles studied him for a minute, his expression guarded, then he nodded, an abrupt jerk of his head. Extricating himself from the group with orders to behave, Charles headed to the bench to pick up his cardigan and cell phone then came over to Erik. "Follow me," Charles said quietly, avoiding Erik's gaze.

Erik grabbed his own things and followed Charles silently through the halls to what was clearly the other man's office. Just as cluttered as he remembered their apartment being. They didn't speak a word to each other until the door had closed and Charles was behind his desk.

"Why are you here?" Charles asked tightly.

"I wanted to see you."

Charles laughed a little, a bitter sound. "Well, I don't want to see you."

Erik moved closer, draping his things over the back of a chair and rolling his sleeves back down. "I figured that when you refused to come to the premiere."

Charles frowned at him. "So you're the one who gave Raven the tickets. Why am I not surprised. . . Did you actually talk to her? Or did you give the girls their 'five minutes of fame' and then ignore them for the rest of the night?" Anger flowed from Charles, from his voice to his expression to the set of his shoulders and the placement of his hands on the desk.

Erik gritted his teeth. _Calm,_ he thought, _stay calm._ "I stayed with them. Got them seats with the cast and took them to the after party."

"Nice to know you can still be a decent human being to someone else."

Erik frowned. "Charles, how could you possibly still be angry at me?"

Charles scoffed. "Oh, like being jilted isn't enough of a reason?"

"That's not what happened." Erik stepped closer, his voice straining to stay even. He could feel his own temper rising, a result of the anger Charles had directed at him from the first word.

Charles straightened, glaring at him. "Then what do you call leaving me alone at the altar, hmm? Erik? What else would you call that?"

Erik started to explain, "I had fully intended—"

Charles interrupted, "You had a choice and you made the wrong one."

"The wrong—Charles, it was a once and a lifetime audition! I had to take it, I explained that to you!" They were shouting now.

Charles kept the desk between them. He pointed at Erik for emphasis as he snapped, "You chose your damn career over me, Erik!"

"I had fully intended to marry you! I would still marry you!" Erik slammed a hand on the desk.

"When?" Charles shot back. He threw his hands in the air. "In between films? Or would it be a shotgun wedding on set, when you bothered to remember you even _had_ a fucking fiancé?"

"I called you! I tried to tell you I was going to be late but you had left!"

"Bullshit!"

"And then you vanished on me! I came home to find the apartment half empty! No word, nothing! For all I knew, you had fucking died and I never would have known!" Erik was leaning against the desk, his hands clenching the edge so tight white showed on his knuckles. Their faces were inches apart.

Charles pulled back, straightening, and crossed his arms. "Like you would have cared."

"Dammit, Charles, I loved you! I thought you loved me. Getting that audition landed me a role that would have set both of us up for a long time. I thought you understood that. But you didn't even give me a fucking chance to _explain_ before you left!"

Charles huffed a laugh. "Oh spare me the drama, Erik. You chose your career over me and I moved on. Clearly you have, too, considering I haven't been able to go anywhere the past eight years without seeing your face plastered all over the place." He shook his head. "You know what, I'm done with this. I have things to do and a meeting to prepare for. I'll walk you out."

"Charles, this isn't finished."

"Yes, Erik," Charles said quietly, "it is. Let's go."

Erik watched in disbelief as Charles crossed the room, opened the door and stood there, waiting. "So that's it. You're done talking, just like that."

"I'm tired of listening to your excuses, Erik. It's as simple as that."

Erik snatched his coat and hat and strode into the hall, walking next to Charles in strained silence until they reached the desk and the kid. Erik stopped and Charles scowled at him. "The kid has my license."

Charles snapped a hand out. "Mark. Erik's license, if you would." Contempt dripped from every word.

Erik took it from Charles, shoving it in his wallet, and pulled his coat on. Charles gestured to the front doors. "Goodbye, Erik."

Maybe it was the absolute finality in Charles' voice that did it but Erik suddenly moved in, crowding Charles against the desk and said softly, "This conversation is not over."

Chest to chest, their gazes locked. Erik reached up and stroked his cheek lightly. Charles' face flushed and he inhaled sharply, answering Erik's unspoken question. The attraction was still there. He could work with that. A kiss would push it too far, even on the cheek, so Erik simply smiled. "See you around, Charles."

He pulled back, stuck his hat on and walked out. The last thing he heard as the door slid closed was Charles saying, "Not one word of this, Mark, understand?"

Erik breathed the cold air in. Well, that was not how he'd expected this meeting to go. He'd have to try harder because there was no way in hell he was leaving New York without fixing things with Charles, especially now that he knew where Charles had gone all those years ago. He'd done an excellent job of staying off the radar.

Wasn't it a good thing his new movie—due to start filming in good old New York next week—was in need of a place to film the obligatory community center Santa scene? And wasn't it lucky he knew of just the perfect place to do it in. Maybe Az could put in a word with the director. . .

* * *

Charles returned to his office and sagged against the door. Could today get any worse? He rubbed his face and sighed heavily. First the donation mix-up, then the email went down and now Erik's unscheduled arrival and the ensuing argument. Thank god he'd had the kickball game to lighten his spirits, if only for a little while.

Why the bloody hell was Erik still in town, anyway? Wasn't he supposed to go on to the next premiere and never come back? How was it fair that Erik came back into his life like this, made him feel like this again?

It wasn't. There was no other way to put it.

Charles pushed off the door and headed for the file cabinet. Work. He had to find some work to do to take his mind off of Erik. He had the file cabinet open when a knock on his door interrupted him. "Scott. Is everything okay?"

The boy bit his lip and stood awkwardly in the doorway. Charles slid the drawer shut and waited. "Um, you said that it was okay to talk to you."

"Of course, Scott. About anything." Half the time, Charles functioned as an unofficial therapist for the children who frequented the center.

Scott still hesitated. Charles decided to break the ice, so to speak. "Would you like a cookie, Scott?"

Scott drifted forward a step, as if the word itself drew him. "Cookie?"

Charles smiled and pulled a tin out of his desk. "Sugar cookies. I baked them just a couple days ago. You're welcome to take as many as you'd like." He held it out, hopefully enticing the boy to trust him. Scott was a fairly new addition to the center and Charles had been having trouble breaking the boy out of his shell. Taking a turn at kickball earlier and letting Charles hug him was a huge improvement since they'd met. To be honest, Charles was starting to suspect an abusive home; emotional abuse, at the very least.

Scott took a step, then another, slowly making his way across the office. He glanced at Charles as he reached out, and when Charles nodded encouragingly, Scott snagged a cookie, putting it in his mouth quickly.

Charles felt a frown forming. "Do you want to sit or stand while we talk?"

Scott took another bite and mumbled, "Sit."

"All right." Setting the tin on his desk within easy reach, Charles closed the door and settled in one of the chairs he reserved for visitors while Scott slowly sat next to him, nibbling at his cookie. "So, Scott. What's on your mind?"

Scott studied him over his cookie, still clearly unsure about confiding. "The others say you're a good guy. That you help people. Kids."

Charles studied him. "I'm on your side, Scott. Whatever it is."

Scott reached for another cookie, eyeing Charles to see if it was okay, and took a bite. Charles just slid the tin closer to the boy. Scott said matter-of-factly, "My foster parents don't let me see my brother."

It took a minute to wrap that around his brain. Information. He needed more information. One thing at a time. "You . . . have a brother?"

"Mmhmm. Alex. He's older'n me."

"And he does not live with you?"

"No." Scott lowered his cookie. "He lives in. . . judy?"

Jud. . . oh. _Oh._ "Juvie?"

"Yeah, that."

Oh dear. "Okay." Charles took a breath, trying to think this through. "Is that why your foster parents won't let you see him?"

"I think so. They get all weird whenever I talk about him or my. . .parents. . ." Scott gave him a pleading look. "Can you help? I just want to see my brother. He's my only family now. I haven't seen him in a long time."

"You don't have any aunts or uncles to take you in? Grandparents, perhaps?"

"Uh uh. Just Alex since Mom and Dad . . . died."

This was big. And it was going to take more than just him. Maybe Moira would help. . . "Okay. Give me a few days to look into things, see what I can do, okay?"

"So you'll do it?" Scott gave Charles the sad puppy-dog eyes.

Charles was incapable of turning down puppy-dog eyes. But he still couldn't promise the boy anything, especially if he wasn't sure he could do anything. "I will do my best, Scott."

Clearly not what the boy wanted to hear but he seemed to be a little more relaxed. Scott grabbed another cookie on his way out. Once the door shut, Charles ran a hand through his hair and sighed heavily. How did he always get into these things?

* * *

"Charles, you have got to stop promising these kids things!"

"I didn't actually say the word promise."

"Come on, you think he's not going to take your words as law? You made that boy a promise; you never should have said anything."

"Ugh, don't you think I know that, Moira?" Charles drank his beer. "You should have seen Scott's face, though. He was so sad. All he wants is to see his brother, how could I say no to that?"

Moira made a face. "Yeah, okay, but still. How are you going to go about this? It's not like you could just walk into the juvenile detention center and ask to take Alex out. He's not a library book."

No, no he couldn't do that.

Wait. . .

"You're doing that squinty thing."

"What squinty thing?"

"That squinty thing you do with your eyes when you get a crazy idea. I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"Well, I was just thinking—"

"A bad idea, I'm sure."

He shot her a look and she subsided. "I was _thinking_ , what if I did?"

"Did what?"

"Walked into the detention center and took Alex with me?"

Moira dryly informed him, "That might be classified as kidnapping, Charles."

"Not like that! No. No, I'm thinking more along the lines of community service."

"How so?"

Charles turned to face her. "Okay, so what if I convinced them that Alex's time would be better spent working at a community center with underprivileged kids. Under my supervision. That would give him a way to get out of that place and a way to spend time with Scott, without his foster family knowing."

She stared at him. "That is certifiably insane. And yet, genius. You know, until the foster parents find out and holy hell rains down on you."

He waved a hand, dismissing the concern. "I'll have figured out a more permanent solution by then. But, seriously, what do you think? Could it work?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

Charles settled into his seat, sipping his drink. This could work.


	3. Chapter 3

"Yes, I can do Friday afternoon. That'll be perfect. Yes, of. . . course. . .," Charles said into his phone as he stepped into the coffee shop. He came to an abrupt stop. There were a lot of people staring—no, make that glaring—at him. With cameras. Big, movie-style cameras. Shit. "Yeah, I, uh, I have to go. I'll see you Friday." He slid the phone into his pocket without waiting for a response.

Charles glanced around. Yep, this was a film crew and they were using the coffee shop. He glanced at the door behind him and saw the sign telling everyone to keep quiet due to filming. _Shit_. His gaze landed on the counter. Specifically the person standing in front of it.

Erik waved. Stunned and slightly embarrassed, Charles reflexively waved back. "Sorry I interrupted," he blurted and darted back outside. _Please don't follow please don't follow please don't follow please don_. . .

"Charles!"

Crap. Charles shoved his hands in his coat pockets and walked faster.

"Wait! Charles, wait!"

It wasn't for him. It was. . . a stranger. Calling for someone else named Charles. No way was it for him. Nope.

This wasn't happening.

" _Charles!_ " A hand snagged his elbow, forcing him to stop. Erik swung in front of him and Charles averted his gaze. "Didn't you hear me calling?"

He jerked his arm free and said flatly, "What do you want?"

"Hey, listen, I'm sorry about the guys inside."

Charles took a step back. "It's my fault; I missed the signs. I didn't mean to interrupt your shot."

He heard Erik shake his head, the rustle of his coat giving it away. "No, it's no trouble. We were just camera blocking." When Charles didn't respond, Erik continued, "I'm glad I ran into you, though. We need to talk."

"I have nothing more to say to you."

"But there is more to say. More I have to tell you."

Charles shifted his feet, still avoiding his gaze.

Erik blew out his breath in a huff. "Have dinner with me."

Startled, Charles finally looked at him. "What? No. I'm not going out with you."

"Not . . . a date. Just. . . just dinner. As friends." Erik waved his hands awkwardly. "We need to. . . clear the air. Catch up. Come on, please? Just one meal. You don't even have to talk; just listen."

Charles bit his lip. Erik sounded in earnest.

"Just give me _one_ chance to really explain things, Charles."

He looked down, at the window, out at the street, anywhere but at Erik. On the one hand, he wanted nothing more to do with Erik. . . but on the other. . . he did kind of want to know why. "I don't know. . . Last time didn't really go so well."

Erik nodded. "I know. I didn't mean to yell and you weren't ready to listen. But now I'm hoping that's changed. . .?"

His chest hurt. His throat felt tight. He had to get away before he said something he'd regret. "I'll think about it," he said hurriedly. "Look, I'm sorry; I have a meeting to get to. Bye." Charles brushed past Erik and hurried to the corner, crossing to the other side.

"I'm gonna kill you, Raven," Charles muttered to himself. How could she not tell him Erik was still here _and_ that he was filming?

* * *

Erik watched Charles run away, his shoulders slumping. He'd felt his hopes rise when Charles waved back and he was so close just a moment ago.

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. Six years since he'd learned Charles had left the state, four since restarting contact with Raven. It took another year after reconnecting with her before she'd divulge any information on Charles. Now he'd managed to convince her to tell him where Charles was and then to convince her to help him win Charles back.

Eight years and Erik was still hopelessly in love with Charles Xavier. Now if he could only remind Charles of what they once had. Hopefully still had.

"Hey, Lensherr!"

He turned. Charles had long since vanished from view. Az stood half in the door. "Come on, man. They're waiting on you!"

 _Back to work_ , Erik thought as he jogged down the sidewalk.

* * *

The first indication Charles had that someone had just entered his office was the _whap_ of air that hit him.

The second was Moira demanding of him, "Explain this."

Looking up, Charles smiled at her. "Afternoon, Moira. I'm good, a bit busy. Good to see you. What exactly am I explaining?"

She tapped his desk. "What is this?"

Charles slid her finger to the side and raised an eyebrow at the magazine title, feigning astonishment and horror, even throwing a hand to his chest as he asked, "Why, Moira, since when do you read tabloids?"

She sat down with a huff. "Charles, you are on the cover."

He glanced back down, actually looked at it, and felt his heart sink. Crap. Forcing a light, nonchalant tone to his voice, Charles responded, "Oh, so I am. Would you look at that?" He pushed it to the side and went back to his paperwork. Almost despite himself, Charles peeked at the tabloid cover again.

It was a recent photo, to be sure. And, as he studied it surreptitiously, Charles realized he knew exactly when it had been taken. And why Moira was so fired up about it. He stood opposite Erik on the sidewalk, Charles looking down, Erik looking earnestly down at him. Must've been before Erik asked him to dinner.

Moira scoffed. "When did you see Erik?"

He hummed. "Which time?"

"Which _time_?!" Moira's voice went up an octave. "You've seen him _more_ than once?"

He winced. Crap, again. "Not on purpose, I can assure you."

"And how does one run into a famous actor more than once _on accident_?"

Resigning himself to the fact that he wasn't going to get anything done until Moira was satisfied, Charles leaned back and twisted the magazine until it was upside down, the photo facing Moira instead of him. "He stopped by the center last week. We had a—um. Discussion. The photo, here, was taken a few days ago. . . when I, uh, interrupted the film crew in my favorite café. I left, he ran after me." Charles shrugged. "We talked. Or, well, he talked while I tried to get away. And that's that. Nothing happened, Moira, I assure you."

She frowned at him. "Charles, this isn't. . . Are you okay? Because after the whole red carpet thing—"

He smiled faintly. "I'm okay, love. So long as he doesn't just randomly show up again, I'll be fine."

"You're sure you're okay? I know how hurt you were." Concern colored Moira's voice.

He leaned forward and put a hand over hers. "He wants to relive the past which is something I have no interest in doing. I am fine, Moira. Promise. Now, will you help me figure out how to word this pitch to Ms. Conrad so she lets me take Alex?"

* * *

Charles was shown into an office, offered coffee—which he accepted with a smile—and left to wait. There were two chairs opposite the very organized desk which looked like they'd be very comfy to sit on and there were personal touches on the bookcase and desk—photos, knickknacks, etc.—all good signs. He sipped his coffee and wandered, inspecting the books on display.

"Mr. Xavier?"

He whirled. A middle-aged woman with long blonde hair entered the room, wearing a black pencil skirt and short-sleeved red V-neck top, very flattering.

"So sorry to keep you waiting. The kids don't seem to care all that much about my schedule sometimes." She smiled and held her hand out. "I'm Melanie Conrad; I believe you spoke to my assistant a couple days ago?"

He shook her hand, returning the smile. "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Conrad. And, please, call me Charles. Mr. Xavier was my father."

"Call me Melanie, then." Melanie nodded and moved to her desk. Charles followed suit, sitting in one of the chairs as she sat. It was extremely comfortable. "So, Charles," she smiled, "you said you had an interest in, what was it you said? Borrowing one of the children here?"

He set his cup down. "In a manner of speaking, yes."

She tented her hands. "I see. Could I have some more information?"

"I run a community center and most, if not all, of the young people and children who frequent it are, shall we say, underprivileged. Abused, street kids, foster kids, kids who think no one else understands them. . . they have all found a sort of safe haven with me. It gives them a place to spend their time between school and home, as well as helping them socialize with other children of their age in a more relaxed environment. I also end up acting as a therapist and babysitter more often than not." Charles smiled fondly. "It's a privilege to have the level of trust I do at the moment, but I'd like a little something more."

"Okay. I'm following you so far. What led you here, then?"

Moira had helped him with this part. "Well, you see, I truly enjoy helping these children to grow, get out of their shell and perhaps become a little less jaded at their current lot in life. And I thought, if I could help them, then why not try and help others? That's what led me here. I was hoping we could do an exchange of sorts. Instead of staying in here all day, why not let one or two of them perform a bit of community service, give back?"

Melanie studied him impassively over her hands before setting them down on the desk. "I applaud you on what you're trying to achieve, Charles, but I'm not sure I can accommodate your request."

His heart fell. "May I ask why not?"

"I don't know you, I don't know your background or what your center is like. I can't entrust an underage child to someone I don't know. I'm sorry, Charles, but I'm going to have to say no."

"Ah. I see." Charles scrambled. He had to salvage this. "What if I was willing to risk it?"

Melanie studied him again. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"Call it the Christmas spirit?" he tried.

The corner of her mouth twitched. "Charles, I pride myself on being a good judge of character. I never would have gotten this far if I wasn't. You seem like a good person and, in the spirit of Christmas, I suppose I could try and expedite the process. You'll have to submit to a background check, of course."

 _Yes._ "Of course, no problem."

"I can give you the bare details on the inhabitants here, enough to make a decision, and then we can ask him or her if they'd like to do it."

They spent the next forty-five minutes going through names. Charles pretended to be interested in them all, picking out similar files so that it wouldn't seem so odd when he chose Alex. And of course, Alex's name was near the end. When he asked to meet with Alex, Melanie gave him a surprised look but went out to call him in.

When she returned to clean up the files, Charles asked, "Is there something I should know about Alex Summers?"

"He's a tough case, Alex. Fifteen years old, been in and out of the system since he was ten and his parents died in a plane crash. Anger issues, abandonment issues, trouble with authority, the whole gamut. The only thing that settles him is his younger brother, Scott, who is in a foster home. Makes it difficult to see each other, which is always hard." Melanie sat back down. "We try our very hardest to keep families together but sometimes it's just not possible."

"That's so sad." Keep it vague. "How old is his brother?"

She took in a breath, thinking. "Um, he should be about nine, I believe. If I'm doing my math right. Alex could tell you for sure." A knock on the door interrupted them and she called out, "Come in!"

A fair-haired teenager stepped inside, casting a wary look between them. His jeans were worn with a hole in one knee and he had a black crew neck t-shirt on. A chain dangled from one pocket. "I didn't do anything."

Melanie smiled reassuringly. "I know, Alex. Have a seat; there's something I'd like to discuss with you."

Alex dragged the other chair a couple feet away from them both and flopped into it. "So?"

"Alex, this is Charles Xavier. He has a proposal I'd like you to consider." She gestured at him.

Charles took a breath and explained, albeit a bit shorter and catered more towards the teen opposite him than the social worker. Alex just scowled at him the entire time and the room was silent when Charles finally finished.

"So what exactly are you offering?" Alex finally said, his arms crossed over his chest.

"A chance to get outside these walls for a few hours a day." Charles leaned forward, elbows on his knees. It was imperative that Alex accept this. He met Alex's sullen blue eyes and urged, "A chance to help someone not nearly as fortunate as yourself, to put another on a better path than you're on. You could make a difference at my center, Alex. Just say yes." _Please, say yes._ "A chance to keep families together."

That got a reaction. Alex's expression softened, the mask falling for just the briefest of moments, but it was there. Alex flicked his eyes to Melanie. "And if I agree to this. . . this community service bull—B.S.? What do I get?"

Melanie remained calm. "A reduced sentence in juvie. Good marks on your record for once."

"I want to see my brother. Visitation rights or whatever you call them."

"I. . . will work on that. What do you say, Alex? Are you accepting Mr. Xavier's offer?"

Alex turned back to him. He shrugged, as if it meant nothing, but Charles had years of dealing with disabused children. It meant a lot to him, especially if he got Scott out of it. "Yeah, whatever. Change of scenery'd be nice."

"Excellent," Charles replied, beaming.

"All right then," Melanie said with a smile. "I'll get the paperwork started. Charles, when would you like Alex to start?"

"Um." Crap, he hadn't actually thought it would go this far. He'd expected to get shot down at this point. Thinking quickly, Charles offered, "Would Monday afternoon work? He would be there to help when the kids get off school and could stay until we close at eight or earlier if you need."

Melanie nodded, writing this on a pad of paper she'd pulled from somewhere. "So, say, a 3:30 arrival. Stay with you for dinner and then . . . would you mind driving him back or is that too much to ask? Once the background check goes through, of course."

Charles shook his head. "I'd be delighted. It's not too far from the center, actually."

"Excellent." She stood, and Charles stood as well. "I'll get everything started and Alex will see you Monday afternoon."

Charles smiled. "Wonderful. Thank you, Melanie. Alex, I'll see you in a couple days." Alex just grunted. Stepping out into the hall, he heaved a sigh of relief. He'd done it. Step one—complete. Step two would hopefully prove a lot easier.

* * *

"Thanks for agreeing to meet me here."

Raven shot him a quick smile, raising her hand to catch the bartender's eye. "No problem. You'd be surprised how many dives I've been in." She gave him a sharp look. "Charles does not need to know that, by the way."

Erik chuckled. "Your secret's safe with me."

"Good." She ordered a margarita. "So what's up?"

He sipped at his beer, trying for nonchalance. "What do you mean?"

Raven gave him a knowing look as she thanked the bartender for the drink and took a sip. "You asked me to meet you for drinks, late, in a very shitty bar where I'm pretty sure no one here has ever seen any of your movies. Let alone heard of your name. So, I'll repeat, what do you want?"

He muttered, "You sound like Charles."

"Aha. So that's it." She sounded smug and he gritted his teeth. "You went to see Charles and it backfired. That would be why he's back to ignoring me."

"I did what you said. I met him on his turf and it all went to hell." Erik sighed. So quickly, too.

"Somehow, that does not surprise me. He's probably been keeping it all in this whole time."

"Well I was hurting, too, and I wish he'd realize that."

She put a hand on his arm. "I think Charles does know that, deep down, but like I said, he's been suppressing a lot and I think he's having trouble coping right now."

"So what do I do?" Erik asked. "I can't even convince him to look at me, let alone give me a chance to explain."

They sat in silence for a couple minutes, drinking and thinking. Raven ordered a second margarita. "Okay, how about this?" Raven said, turning to him. "I go with you to the center."

He raised an eyebrow. "And that will help how, exactly?"

She grinned. "He can't say no to me. I can give you the tour. When's your next break during the week?"

He closed his eyes, mentally running through his schedule. He had to work tomorrow, then was off Saturday and Sunday while they worked with his co-star and setting up sets but he had fittings and interviews to do for _Battle Magic_. "Would Monday work? I'm rather busy this weekend and most of next week."

"Afternoon? I can slip out early; meet you there."

"Yeah," Erik nodded. "Yeah, that should work. And I hope this idea of yours works."

"Well, it's only a step. You two have a lot of work to do. But until then," she clinked her glass with his bottle, "next round's on you."


	4. Chapter 4

"So I can give you a more in-depth tour later," Charles spoke while heading around the main desk. "Come on back here. All right, so this is the main reception area. Mark runs the desk for me." Alex hovered sullenly beside him, arms crossed. "It's mostly the phone and making sure no unauthorized people try to pick up the children."

"Unauthorized?" Alex repeated.

Charles nodded. "There are some cases where I've been strictly informed by a parent or guardian, or sometimes even a lawyer will contact me, that certain people are not allowed within a set distance of their children and it is Mark's job, first and foremost, to adhere to this. Anyone he does not recognize, any name not on the approved list, does not go any further than this lobby. Don't worry; you'll learn most of the regulars pretty quickly."

Mark nodded, adding, "You can also tell which adults aren't supposed to be here. They act all aggressive and bossy, or try to trick you into letting them in. I always ask for ID, sometimes I keep their driver's license until they leave."

Charles nodded. "Now the phone is a different story." He started towards the back room.

"Charles!" Raven's voice sang out.

He whirled, a smile on his lips. It faded when he saw who was with her. "Get out," Charles said flatly.

Erik looked at Raven. "I told you this wouldn't go well."

"Yeah, well, we're doing this anyway because I'm sick of him moping. Hi, Charles. Mark. Who's the newbie?" Raven leaned on the counter, studying Alex.

Alex bristled but Charles put a hand on his shoulder to silence him. The teen tensed at the touch; Charles lightened the weight but kept his hand on Alex's shoulder. Ignoring her question, he responded, "I don't want him here."

"Well too bad," Raven said brightly. "This is a community center and we are part of the community. Therefore, he is allowed to be here. Come on, Erik. Time for the tour." She hooked an arm through Erik's and dragged him off.

Damn it. He was going to have to talk to her. Or have Moira do it.

"Um, what was that all about? And who were they?" Alex asked, bewildered.

Charles blew out his breath. "My sister. Raven. You'll see her a lot."

"And the guy who couldn't take his eyes off you?"

"That, Alex, is Erik Lensherr. As you could probably tell, we didn't part on good terms." And are not likely to be on good terms anytime soon. "So, Raven's good to come in whenever she wants. She was here when I started the center." Gritting his teeth, Charles reluctantly added, "And whomever she brings with her is usually a friend and is okay, as well."

Alex and Mark exchanged a look. Alex said, "Am I gonna have to interfere in fights or anything?"

"No!" Charles exclaimed, astonished at the idea. "You're a teenager, god, no. If there happens to be an altercation, do not get physical. Call me and I will deal with it. Understood?"

Alex shrugged and leaned against the desk, hands in his pockets. "Whatever, man. I can take care of myself, ya know?"

Charles bit back a sigh. Authority issues, check that box off. "Yes, Alex, I understand you're tough but this is my place, so my rules apply." _Maybe I shouldn't put him on the phones_ , he thought. "Come on, I'll show you where I keep the craft supplies."

They'd just returned from setting out things to make hand turkeys to decorate the halls with, Alex grumbling about it, when Charles noted Scott walking in behind a couple of other kids. Scott looked unhappy and Charles could barely restrain himself from saying something to the brothers. He couldn't wait for the moment the brothers noticed each other.

One of the kids in front saw him and waved. "Hi, Mr. Charles!"

He waved back. "Hello, Wanda, Pietro! Good day at school today?"

Pietro shrugged. "Usual. Okay if I go to the gym?"

"Of course," Charles smiled. Pietro darted off down the hall, Wanda rolling her eyes and going in the opposite direction of her twin. _Ah, here we go._

Scott looked up, smiled faintly at Charles, then his gaze shifted over and the boy froze, the color draining from his face as he stood in the middle of the lobby.

"Scotty?" Charles heard Alex breathe from behind him. Charles grinned and stepped to the side.

Scott took a step forward, cried, "ALEX!" then ran over and flung himself at his older brother, his backpack lying forgotten halfway there.

Alex shot Charles a look full of disbelief then dropped to his knees and clung to the child, burying his face in Scott's shoulder as his own shoulders shook. Charles' heart hurt for the siblings, forced to stay apart when they so clearly needed each other. Something would have to be done, but for now . . . for now this would work.

He greeted several more regulars, sending a few to the craft room, others to the gym or library slash reading room, all the while keeping an eye on the brothers in the corner. They were now sitting, Alex's back to the wall, Scott in his lap talking a mile a minute while Alex fought back more tears and wiped at his face occasionally.

"I hate to interrupt the happy reunion," Charles told Scott and Alex softly, "but perhaps we should talk. In private?"

Alex asked, "About what?"

"A few things. How about my office?"

Scott grinned up at Alex. "He has cookies!"

"Well, then, I guess we're going for the cookies." Alex stood up, Scott slid his hand into his brother's, Charles picked up the backpack and they headed to his office. Once inside, Alex sat and pulled Scott onto his lap, the younger boy happily snuggling against him.

Charles pulled out the tin of cookies—having restocked—and held it out. Scott immediately took two, popped one halfway into his mouth and took a third. Charles laughed as Scott handed it to Alex, who took it but didn't eat it.

Setting the tin down, Charles began, "There's something you should know, Alex. See, this community service thing I convinced Miss Conrad to let you do. . . well. It's not exactly. . . true." Alex put the cookie on the armrest and held Scott tighter. Scott seemed oblivious to the tension his brother was putting out. "You see, Scott came to me last week and asked for my help. He, well, he said that he wasn't allowed to see you and asked if I could do anything. So I sort of engineered a way for you to see your brother without his foster parents knowing." Charles bit his lip.

Alex studied him. "So you lied."

"I did, yes," he answered, uncomfortable.

"Why would you help us?"

"Well, I just couldn't fathom how someone could keep family apart like that! It seemed so wrong. And learning more about your history just made me angrier. I had to do something." He smiled. "And I'd promised Scott. I keep my promises."

Scott spoke up finally. "Thanks, Mr. Charles. You said you'd help and you did." He grinned. "I can't wait to tell Jean!"

Charles said quickly, "Now, wait a minute, Scott. You can't tell anyone about this. Your foster parents can't know Alex is here or that you've seen him."

The eight-year-old's face screwed up in confusion. "So . . . like a secret?"

"Exactly," Charles told him, relieved.

"But how is Alex a secret? He's my brother; they know that."

Alex explained gently, "They know who I am, Scotty. That's not the secret. The secret is what we're doing right now. We'll keep this meeting between us, a brother secret. How's that sound?"

Scott chewed his second cookie, head tilted to the side thoughtfully. He chirped, "Okay! Wanna go make a hand turkey with me, Alex?"

Alex turned to Charles. "Can I? Or do I have to work?"

With a smile, Charles waved them off. "Go. Spend time with your brother. I would appreciate your help getting ready and cleaning up but, other than that, I really don't mind if you spend all your time with Scott. It's the reason I did this, after all."

"I can't tell anyone the real reason, either, right?"

"Right."

"Okay. Come on, Scotty; let's go make a turkey."

Charles stayed in his office after they'd left, feeling emotionally drained for some reason. _Wonder where Raven and Erik went_. To find them or not to find them. . .

His phone rang, answering his question.

* * *

Erik adjusted the kid's hands on the basketball. "Spread your feet a bit. A bit more. Okay, good. Now bend your knees." He backed away. "Throw."

The white-haired teen did as told. White hair, what would they come up with next? Erik watched the ball go right through the net. He clapped. "Nice! Good shot." He grabbed the ball and bounced it over. "Now do it about fifty more times and you'll have it perfect."

"Ugh," the teen moaned dramatically but moved back into position.

Another boy came swaggering up and glowered at Erik. "Who the hell are you?"

Erik raised an eyebrow. "Apparently, the person who's going to teach you to respect your elders."

The boy pshaw'd. "Respect my elders?" He laughed loudly. "Man, you ain't got nothin' on my ol' man!"

"Bug off, Warren," the boy snapped, his eyes flicking warily between Erik and Warren.

Warren got in his face. "Who's gonna make me, Pietro? You? You're a wimp. You'll just go running to Charles."

 _Teenagers._ Rolling his eyes, Erik got in between them. "Hey, tough guy, how about a game of H.O.R.S.E.? You against me."

Warren smirked. "What do I get when you lose?"

Oh this was going to be fun.

* * *

Erik had H.O. while Warren had H.O.R.S. and Erik was bouncing the basketball as he thought about what throw to make next when he realized there was an audience. Charles and Raven were sitting on the front row of bleachers, watching him. Next to them were Pietro and a redheaded girl who had similar features; siblings, perhaps? How long had they been there? How long had Charles been there and he just hadn't noticed?

He used to always know when Charles was nearby.

"Come on, old man! You gonna throw or what?" Warren waited impatiently to the side.

Erik faced the hoop, raised the ball and paused as an idea hit him. The kid only needed one more letter, while Erik needed three. He smirked and turned his back to the hoop, throwing the basketball over his shoulder.

 _Swish._

"Your turn."

Warren snatched the ball off a bounce and stalked over to where Erik was. Erik backed up a couple feet, crossed his arms and waited. Warren glanced over his shoulder a few times, shifted his weight, glanced again.

"Any time now, Warren."

He shot Erik a dirty look. _Teens_. Of course, he wasn't any better when he was that age, but there were extenuating circumstances. Warren threw the ball and quickly spun to watch. It went under the basket.

"I do believe that gives you the final letter," Erik drawled.

Warren growled and stomped off, his face red with embarrassment. Or maybe anger; it was a bit difficult to tell.

Erik picked up the basketball and headed over to the bleachers. A door slammed, announcing Warren's exit.

Charles said quietly, "Congratulations, Erik. I've been trying for weeks to humble him, with no luck."

Erik blinked. "Thanks. Anger can be more of a hindrance than most people realize."

Awkward silence greeted his statement. Raven shifted her gaze between Erik and Charles, who was still avoiding looking at him, damn it.

Pietro broke it. "Thanks, sir. For helping me out and for distracting Warren."

"No problem. And call me Erik, please."

"So," Pietro's voice got decidedly brighter, "this is Wanda, Erik. She's my twin."

"I thought you two looked a little alike. Nice to meet you Wanda." Wanda smiled. "Hey, Pietro, wanna work on that free throw some more?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Language, Pietro," Charles chided. Ignoring him, the twins headed out onto the court, talking.

Erik waited a moment then said, "Warren said something about his dad. . . ?"

Charles nodded. "Yeah, some of these kids don't exactly have the best home life. It's one of the reasons this place is such a blessing and I try to keep it neutral. I don't ask; they don't tell, and for a few hours, they get to be someone else." His voice turned bitter as he added, "I'm sure you can relate."

"Charles, can—"

Charles stood up. "Excuse me, I have to go check on the younger children," and he left.

Erik raised a hand and turned to Raven helplessly.

She shrugged. "You didn't yell at each other."

"I'm not sure this is any better."

Raven stood and put a hand on his shoulder. "Baby steps, Erik. Not yelling is a good step. I'd take it if I were you. Now go on; Pietro's waiting."

Erik sighed, but followed her advice. Pietro was bouncing in place and his face lit up as Erik approached. Thinking about what Charles had said, Erik wondered if the kid wanted attention. Maybe he didn't have a good father-figure at home? Erik bounced the ball to the boy, thinking he'd have to come by again, give him a bit of what he wanted. As long as he had the time, why not? It wasn't like the movie was taxing him; it was a Christmas movie, after all.

And maybe it'd get him back into Charles' good graces.

* * *

Charles heard Raven and Erik talking after he left. So Erik felt awkward around him, too, hmm? He leaned against the side of the bleachers and watched Erik head out to where the twins awaited him.

Raven came up beside him and threw an arm around his shoulder. Softly, she told him, "You gotta forgive him eventually, Charles."

Just as quiet, he replied, "I'm not quite ready to go there yet, Raven."

"He wants to fix things."

"It still hurts too much to even think about forgiving him right now."

"Eight years?"

Erik stepped up to Pietro, rearranging his hands on the basketball. "I don't believe there's a time limit on a broken heart, Raven," Charles informed her.

Raven sighed. "There's broken heart, Charles, and then there's being stubborn. I think you reached stubborn long ago."

"And I don't think you have any say in what I feel," he retorted sharply.

"And what _do_ you feel, exactly? Do you feel anything for Erik anymore?"

Charles watched Erik with the twins, both so fixated on his every word, and felt a pang in his chest. They'd wanted kids. Talked about it, about adopting versus a surrogate. Erik would have made a wonderful father; seeing him out there just proved it. Throat suddenly tight, Charles replied, "I feel a lot of things in regards to Erik. Sorting them out, however, is another story entirely."

Thankfully, Raven dropped the subject and they just stood in silence for a few minutes until Raven broke it by asking, "So about that new kid at the desk. . . "

"Alex, yes."

"Yeah, uh, when did you get him?"

He laughed a little. "I didn't _get_ him. Not really."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Oh? Do tell."

Charles shot one last look at the trio and said, "Walk with me. I really should check on the little ones." They stepped out into the hall as he explained what he'd done for Scott and Alex, the door to the gym swinging shut on him midsentence.


	5. Chapter 5

Walking through the center, Erik was searching for Charles—and hoping to talk to him for more than five seconds. A voice drifting out of a partially closed door stopped him and he paused, listening.

". . .'ll work, I believe." Charles sounded thoughtful.

"Raven coming this year or does she have other plans?" Now that was Moira. So far he had yet to get her on his side but Raven had promised to work on her.

Charles replied pointedly, "If you're asking if she's having Thanksgiving with Erik, the answer is no. At least, that was the last I heard."

"So the three of us plus. . ."

"At least four others from Harvest for Hunger, yes. That should be enough to handle things, don't you think?"

Handle what? What were Charles, Moira, and Raven doing that involved Thanksgiving and Harvest for Hunger? Erik's brow furrowed in thought.

"Should be. When's the delivery due?"

"Ah. . . the Monday before. So about two weeks? You'll come in to help sort, yeah?"

"Yeah, I'll be there."

"Great."

There was a pause in the conversation and Erik debated whether or not to move on. Clearly Charles was busy and, as much as he'd love to talk to Charles, he didn't think interrupting his ex and his ex's best friend was a good idea.

Erik had taken one step when Moira spoke again. "So how's the evil plan with the brothers going?"

What?

Charles scoffed. "It's not an evil plan, Moira."

"Charles, you're lying about why Alex is here. If anyone finds out that you engineered this whole faux-community service thing just to get him and Scott back together, you are in major trouble."

Erik had to stop and think again. Who were Alex and Scott? What was Charles involved in? Was Charles in trouble?

Charles sighed. "I know. But you should see how much Alex's temper has lessened and Scott . . . oh, he's opened up so much, Moira! Their walls are falling because they feel _safe_ here! They never should have been separated."

"I know how much this means to you; their story is so similar to yours. Losing their parents young, having only each other to count on. . . the only difference is that you were old enough to take care of Raven. Alex wasn't. But it's still not right, lying to their caregivers."

Charles' voice hardened. "I will _not_ let those boys be separated again, Moira. There _has_ to be something I can do."

Wait, he remembered Alex now. The young blond kid who occasionally sat at the front desk. Erik cautiously started back the way he'd come. Maybe Pietro could point him out. Befriending them would definitely gain him points in Charles' book.

Right?

* * *

Rolling his neck—and hearing it crack—Charles took a deep breath and straightened from his desk. His eyes were starting to cross from staring at the computer for too long. Moira would have lectured him but thankfully she'd left a couple hours ago. A walk would do him good, he thought. A quick glance at the clock told him it was about a quarter after six. He'd check on the kids then go back to work. He was pretty sure he could work teaching into his schedule in the spring, so long as he did morning classes because he needed to be at the center before kids started arriving.

A bunch of boys were playing basketball in the gym. He smiled as he watched Pietro score a three-pointer. Something he hadn't been able to do a month ago. Clearly he'd taken Erik's lessons to heart.

A video game contest was in full session in one of the larger rooms—the teens had definitely upgraded the room since he'd put the equipment in. There were now Play Stations, Xbox's, and a set of Wii controllers along with normal board games and decks of cards. A couple saw him and waved. He waved back but kept going. He was shit at video games.

A little voice drew him to one of the designated play rooms. Eva was wearing a princess dress—Cinderella, he thought—and holding out two tiaras to—

Erik.

Sitting on the floor in front of the girl.

Charles blinked. When did Erik get here?

How long had he been here? Wasn't he supposed to be off filming?

Eva dropped one tiara and stepped forward to place the chosen one on Erik's head. Erik smiled at her and reached up to adjust it to sit better.

Some of the ice surrounding Charles' heart cracked a little bit at the sight. Something that felt like longing filled him as he leaned against the doorjamb and stared.

The ice cracked a little more as a moment later Erik noticed him and smiled.

Eva turned to see what he was looking at and squealed, "Chawles!" The girl ran over, hands up, and Charles hoisted her up onto his hip with a laugh.

He flicked her nose, making her giggle. "Hello, love. And what are you two up to?"

Beyond them, Erik rose to his feet and Charles bit his lip to keep from smiling. He looked ridiculous in that tiara and yet incredibly adorable.

"We playing pwincess! Mistah Ewik's my faiwy godmother!"

Charles nodded. "Mhm. Well, take it easy on Mr. Erik, okay? I don't think he's used to playing princess like I am."

Erik was gazing at him with this soft expression on his face. Wasn't he going to say anything? Usually by now Erik would have tried to pull him aside to talk. Instead he remained silent as Eva nodded seriously and squirmed.

Charles set her down and stepped away. Behind him, he could hear Eva asking what Erik's favorite princess was. His footsteps quickened, taking him to the nearest restroom where he locked himself in a stall and put his hands over his face.

He took a shuddering breath. Damn it, he was not supposed to be having these feelings anymore!

How was it that Erik could give him that look and he still melted?

No.

No, he was not going to melt. Not again. Not ever again.

There was no Erik and Charles and there would be nothing beyond possibly a cordial acquaintanceship.

With that thought firmly in mind, Charles left the restroom, intending to call Raven and see if they were still getting together that weekend for movie night with Moira.

With absolutely nothing with Erik Lensherr in the credits.

* * *

"No. No no no no, this. . . Mark, why didn't you call me?"

"You weren't in your office."

Charles bit back a sigh. "I have a cell phone. You have the number." _I should have left Alex in charge._ He flipped through the papers. There was still a little over a week until Thanksgiving and yet the food had all been delivered while he was at the university, talking with the department chair about spring semester scheduling. He was trying to convince them to let him teach online classes since that would work better for his schedule.

And it was all now just sitting in boxes in the gym where it had been unloaded.

"Where's Alex?" Charles asked.

Mark said, "Uhhhh . . . with Scott? Somewhere?"

The papers crumpled in his hands. "Okay. Find him. I want the two of you in the gym as soon as possible. Grab Pietro and Wanda, too, while you're at it." Mark nodded and hurried off as Charles dropped his head on the desk and muttered, "This is a disaster."

"Charles? Do you need help?"

Charles spun. Erik stood in the doorway, an eyebrow cocked. "Oh, god. No." He shook the papers at the other man. "I cannot deal with you right now."

Erik held his hands out. "Not here to start anything. Just had some free time; figured I'd come help Pietro with his basketball practice. Everything okay?"

"Peachy." Charles sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He eyed Erik, thinking. Abruptly, Charles asked, "You really want to help?"

"Put me to work."

 _Please don't make me regret this, Erik._ "Follow me, then."

* * *

"Wow." Erik looked at all of the boxes filling half the gym. "What is in all of these?"

Charles brushed past him. "Excellent question. That's what we're going to find out."

The kids were gathered on the bleachers—Wanda and Pietro waved at him. Erik waved back; he'd become rather fond of the twins over the past week or so. Mark was there, along with Alex and another younger boy who looked familiar.

"Okay," Charles announced and Erik jogged the rest of the way. "So this is the delivery I was expecting _next_ week but apparently came today. We need to go through all of the boxes and sort out what, exactly, was delivered, then sort it into what needs to be refrigerated and what does not. Questions?"

Alex raised a hand. "What is all this for?"

"Thanksgiving dinner," Charles answered.

"Charles, there's twenty boxes here." Erik cast an astonished look at the boxes. Who's Thanksgiving din . . . wait. Could this be what he'd heard Moira and Charles discussing a few days ago?

Charles nodded. "Yes. For the past seven years, this center has offered a free, warm Thanksgiving dinner for those who cannot afford it. Raven, Moira and I always work along with a few volunteers from Harvest for Hunger. And yes," Charles continued, turning back to the kids, "you are all invited if you'd like."

Did that invitation extend to him? Erik wondered. Hmm . . . maybe he'd come. And not to eat; to work. To help out. This was something important to Charles. That had been Raven's advice—get involved with something important to him. He strode to the first box, pulled out his pocket knife, and slit the tape to open the box. The others soon joined him.

* * *

What started off as a potential disaster-in-the-making turned into a surprisingly fun afternoon. Charles and Erik started off working on complete opposite sides of the room from each other but the kids—bless them—had turned things into a game. Charles had been absolutely astonished when Erik had joined in, rolling cans across the floor to Scott, or tossing bags to Alex and Pietro, making references to basketball moves that made the boys enjoy the work. Mark and Wanda had quickly decided emptying boxes wasn't their thing and had switched to inventory and sorting. Charles hadn't laughed this much in a while.

Canned and boxed food was put back into boxes and stacked along the wall; frozen foods were boxed and kept nearby so they could move them to the freezer. Picking up a box of canned food, Charles headed for the stacked boxes. His foot hit something and slid. The box, now top-heavy, knocked him off balance for a moment. Tipping backwards, Charles tried to get his feet under him but couldn't. Someone grabbed his arm, yanking him forward and taking some of the weight of the box.

"You good?"

Charles caught his breath and looked over the top of the box. "Yeah." He couldn't look away from Erik's concerned expression. "Thanks."

His mouth quirked in that familiar half-smile Charles knew so well. "Don't mention it."

They stood like that for a couple minutes, their hands just barely touching as they held the box and each other's gazes. Maybe . . . maybe he should listen to what Erik had to say. . .

After all, Erik was here, wasn't he? He was spending time at the center, getting to know the kids Charles helped, acting like he used to when they were first dating. . .

"Mr. Charles, can I have a cookie?"

Scott tugged on his jeans, breaking the moment. Charles looked down. "Scott. Um, well, I'm a, a bit busy at the moment. . ."

"Here, give me the box, Charles. Go on." Erik shifted close enough to take the full weight of the box and tilted his head towards the boy. "I can keep an eye on the kids while you're gone."

Thrown, Charles stammered, "Ah, um . . . are, are you sure?"

Erik nodded. "Yeah. It'll give me practice for later."

Charles opened his mouth to say something else but changed his mind, instead heading off with Scott. What had Erik meant by this being practice for later? Were there kids in his movie? But he'd worked with kids before so maybe that's not what he meant?

 _Oh._

Did he mean . . .?

 _Okay, not thinking about that_. Charles listened to Scott telling him about something he and Alex did and tried not to think about how he'd always thought that Erik would make a great dad.

* * *

"This isn't working." Charles leaned forward to set his glass on the coffee table.

Moira asked, "What's not working?"

Raven opened her mouth and Charles shot her a look. "Not. Him." He was getting sick of them asking about Erik. Although, yes, apparently his reticence regarding Erik was not working, either, but that was a conversation for another time; when he was ready to examine it closer. Erik had a way of worming past his defenses. Raven silently took another slice of pizza out of the box. "I _meant_ Alex and Scott. It's not working."

"How do you mean? Scott still comes and Alex is still doing his fake community service."

"You don't see them together, Moira. Not like I do." He ran a hand through his hair. "It's got to be criminal to keep them apart like this. They deserve to live together. You don't separate family; not after a tragic accident."

Raven snuggled against him. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her head. He'd fought tooth and nail to keep Raven with him and managed to win. They'd turned out just fine, too. Despite their stepfather being an ass, although, really, that wasn't a surprise.

"Love you," Raven murmured. "Thank you for not letting me grow up in foster care or staying with him."

"Of course. I love you, too, Ray. See, Moira, this is exactly why it kills me every time I have to watch them say goodbye. Every time I have to drive Alex back to juvie. It's just wrong."

Moira shrugged. "So adopt them."

Charles stared at her. He blinked. Why the hell hadn't he thought of that?

"They're orphans, right? Still technically in the foster system. So adopt them. That way you guarantee they stay together."

"I love you, Moira."

"Yeah, yeah. You'd have thought of it eventually, I'm sure."

His hope deflated as something occurred to him. "Would they even want to live with me?"

Raven made a disbelieving noise. "Seriously, bro? After what you've done for them, I'm surprised Scott hasn't already asked. And what Scott wants, Alex does. Even I know that and I'm not there nearly as often as you are."

"Ask them tomorrow," Moira advised, grabbing a slice of pizza. "They'll say yes."

* * *

 **Hope you're liking it so far.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Some Dadneto in this chapter :D Plus a sort of confrontation between Erik and Moira**

* * *

Charles studied the two boys in front of him. Scott clung to Alex, who, after weeks of being in Charles' company, still managed to be wary of him. "So I guess, what I'm asking," Charles continued, "is if you want that. If you'd want to—to live with me."

Scott asked, "So . . .'dopting means Alex and me'd be together? I could see him more than just here?"

Charles' gaze softened. "Yes, Scott. You wouldn't have to lie about seeing your brother because he'd always be there."

"No more secrets?" Scott looked like it was too good to be true.

"No more secrets," he confirmed with a nod.

Scott bit his lip, looked up at Alex and said, "Then yeah."

 _Whew_. One down. Charles turned to Alex and lifted an eyebrow. "What do you say, Alex?"

Alex studied him, his expression stony. Charles flashed back to their first meeting, remembering a boy who wanted to be tougher than he was, a boy who just wanted his family back together. Alex finally asked, "You sure you want _me_ to live with you? I'm a bad guy."

Charles smiled and said gently. "No, Alex. You're not. You are a young man who has had a tough, harsh life but that is not who you are. Who you are is someone who loves his brother very much and just wants to be able to be with him and take care of him. I am offering you that chance. By adopting you both, I promise you won't be separated again. I'll take care of you and you'd have a family again, one that loves you as you should."

Alex bit his lip, brow furrowed in thought; Charles hid a smile at the familial similarity. "Scotty, you sure you wanna live with this guy?"

Scott nodded. "He's a good person, Alex. Not like Mr. Newson." Scott's face fell and he added, "We'd have a dad again."

Charles' heart hurt for the boys. He would do anything for them.

Alex sighed, kissed the top of his brother's head, and turned to Charles. "Okay. If you can make it happen, I . . . _we_ 'd like it if you adopted us."

Charles smiled in relief, took a step forward then stopped. "Is it all right if I hug you?"

Scott flung himself at Charles. Charles held him close, and after a moment, Alex let himself be pulled into it as well, tough guy til the end. Charles wasn't fooled for a second because as soon as his arm wrapped around the teen's shoulders, Alex buried his face in Charles' chest.

 _My boys_ , Charles thought with finality, tightening his grip on them.

* * *

"Okay," Erik asked, having finally cornered Moira in the kitchen, "what is with Charles and these two kids?"

Moira just looked at him. "What kids?"

Erik gestured helplessly. "The teen, whatshisname . . . Alex. And his kid brother. I know Charles is fond of everyone here but he seems especially attached to those two. Why?"

"I'm not sure what you mean, Erik."

"Moira, please. I'm not blind."

"And neither am I," she shot back.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I know why Raven keeps trying to tell me how sorry you are." She slammed a can on the counter and put her hands on her hips, frowning at him. "You have no idea what it was like when you two broke up. For Charles, it was like the world had ended. You two. . . " She sighed. "You and Charles had the fairytale romance we all wanted but couldn't find. College friends, then college sweethearts, you wanted a film career and he followed you out to Hollywood, started teaching at a university. Somehow you made it work. You and Charles were the star couple. You just made love look so easy. And then it all fell apart—because of you—and Raven and I had to figure out how to put him back together. Now you're back and you're breaking him all over again. For what? Forgiveness?" He opened his mouth but she shook her head. "No, Erik. It's selfish of you to do this to him and I won't help you."

"Can I say something?" Erik interjected, a bit irritated.

"I don't know, can you?"

"I'm not doing this just to get forgiveness from him."

"Bullshit."

His mouth tightened. "Just hear me out for a second, will you?"

"Fine." Moira crossed her arms. "Make it good."

Erik paused, took a breath, and organized his thoughts. Yelling at Moira would not help his cause. "I did not come here simply to ask for Charles' forgiveness." She made a disbelieving noise and he made an effort to ignore it. "Yes, I want that, but it's not the sole reason. Charles wasn't the only one who fell apart when our relationship ended. I went to a bad place, for years." Erik had to take a breath to force the memories back. Moira's expression remained the same. " _Battle Magic_ premiering here was a coincidence. The Hallmark movie I'm filming? That was a deliberate choice. I wanted to be able to spend time here, in New York, so I could see Charles. Talk to him. I'm sick of Hollywood, Moira, and this. . . this is my last film. I'm retiring from acting and all I want is to spend the rest of my life with Charles. I still love him and I want him back. Raven's on board with it; I'm hoping you will be, too."

There. That was it. He had no clue how she'd respond.

Moira kept him waiting for a couple minutes, even turning back to sorting cans of food. "He's adopting them so he can keep them from being separated again."

Erik blinked. Adopting? A smile spread across his face. That was so Charles.

"I would suggest getting to know them, get them to like you. That'll warm Charles to you. I'm assuming Raven told you to get involved here since you're here a lot. It's a good idea." Moira shut the cupboard and turned to face him, a serious expression on her face. "I get what you're saying. I do. We were friends at one point but I was Charles' friend first and I say this with that in mind—he's not over you. We did what we could but he could never have a stable relationship for more than a month. He's still in love with you, despite how he tries to hide it. This is my one and only warning, Erik: hurt Charles again, and you will regret it. You will never find him again. Are we clear?"

Relief flooded him. "Crystal. Thanks, Moira."

"Don't thank me yet. I've no idea how Charles will respond to your attentions and his wellbeing comes first." She headed into the storeroom and Erik left the kitchen.

He had a lot to think about.

* * *

Having started on getting Scott Summers to like him by helping him with his homework, Erik was now on the prowl for the second Summers' boy. Getting the younger one to like him would be no problem; heck, Erik liked the kid.

Alex, though. Alex was another story. Erik had wracked his brain, trying to figure out how to reach him.

At the moment, he was walking the halls, looking for Alex and hoping for inspiration. Hearing shouting, Erik decided to check on it and sighed at the picture that greeted him inside the gaming room.

Alex was in there, facing off against Warren. Warren was standing with his feet apart, hands loose at his sides, yelling in Alex's face. Alex had a similar stance, but his hands were fisted and he looked like he was ready to tear something apart. Warren looked mad but not violent. Still.

Erik stepped inside, intending to end this before either boy got hurt. His timing couldn't have been more perfect.

Alex pulled a fist back, preparing to swing.

Erik forced his way between them, threw out his hands and knocked them both back a couple steps. "Right," he said matter-of-factly, "here's how this is going to go. The next person to move gets thrown into the hall. By me. Whatever the argument is, it does not need to be solved by a fistfight. Got it?" He glanced between them, gauging their expressions. Charles might very well kill him if he let Alex get hurt.

Alex looked mutinous, fist still clenched tight.

Warren looked sullen but shot Erik a sneer when he caught him looking.

Erik sighed and lowered his arms a bit. Refereeing teenagers. Not how he'd planned to spend his afternoon. "Okay. What's the problem here?"

They both started talking at once.

Warren started in with, "This is my room."

Alex snarled back, "It's not your anything, you pansy. It's a _community_ center."

Warren scoffed. "Of course you think that, you're Charles' pet. You and your brother."

Alex stepped forward, into Erik's quickly raised hand. His voice quiet, Alex said, "You leave my brother out of this."

Warren smirked. In a singsong voice, he responded, "What? Big bad Alex can't even take care of his baby brother without daddy's help?" Then in a normal voice, "Oh wait. Your daddy's dead."

Alex growled and thrust forward. It took both of Erik's hands to hold him back.

"Come on, bring it, wimp!"

"All right, that's enough!" Erik snapped. "No one is fighting anyone here."

Warren sulked. "Not my fault he's a wussy."

Erik glared over his shoulder. "You, silence." Lowering his voice, Erik looked Alex in the eyes and murmured, "Getting into a fight will not help your case. Alex. Alex, look at me. If you hit him, if you give in, this will be a mark against you." Alex wasn't paying attention, straining to get to Warren. "Alex, listen to me!" Damn it, fine. "If you do this, you might not get to see Scott again."

That finally got the kid's attention. Bright blue eyes locked onto his. Erik said calmly, "Lower your hands, Alex."

Alex slowly lowered his fists and Erik relaxed his grip. "Okay." Erik shifted so he could keep both of them in his sights. "Now, who was here first?" When they both opened their mouths, he added, "The truth."

Silence greeted him. He waited.

Grudgingly, Alex muttered, "Him."

Warren shot them a smug look. Erik gave him a stern look in return. "Charles is a very good friend of mine, Warren. Consider yourself lucky I don't tell him about this little incident." Warren looked away. Turning back to Alex, Erik gestured to the door. "You, come with me." Alex tried to argue, but Erik gave him a little shove. "Come on, let's go."

Walking down the hall a couple minutes later, Alex remained sullenly silent. Reaching an intersection, they nearly bumped into Charles as he rounded the corner, his arms full of papers. Charles stopped and stared. "Um, is everything okay?" His gaze fixed on the teen.

Erik threw an arm around Alex's shoulder and said lightly, "Just a little disagreement with a classmate. We'll be in the gym if you need us, Charles."

Charles glanced at him, seeming slightly stunned, blinked and said slowly, "Okaaaayy."

Erik nudged Alex forward, waving to Charles as they passed. An idea had finally hit him.

* * *

"All right, tough guy, hit me."

"You want me to what?" Alex shot Erik a disbelieving look, arms crossed.

"Hit me. Get some of that anger out."

Alex scoffed. "If this is a trap to get me in trouble, I ain't buying it, man."

Erik rolled his eyes. "No, this is not a trap. This is a much healthier way of getting rid of your anger than lashing out at some innocent person. Even if that other person is a jerk. Trust me, I've been there." Erik shook the pads on his hands. "Now, come on: hit me."

Alex scowled at him. _Come on, kid_ , Erik thought, watching him. Finally, the teen stepped forward, glanced up at Erik, and swung his fist.

It glanced off the side of the pad. Alex growled.

"One foot in front, the other solidly behind you. Twist your body as you swing." Erik demonstrated.

Alex glared again, clearly not liking being told what to do. Christ, the kid was just like he was as a kid. How Charles ever condescended to date him, Erik would never know. But the kid shifted his feet, which in turn forced him to turn sideways, so when he swung his fist the next time, it had a little more power to it.

 _Whap!_

Alex blinked. Looked at his hand. Back up at Erik.

Erik smirked. "Better. Now do it again and step into the swing."

* * *

"So when did you learn how to box?"

Alex and Erik were sitting on the floor against the wall, having taken a break. Erik shrugged. "I was a troublesome kid. I didn't really fit in, being Jewish and gay; lost my Dad shortly after I started high school. Not knowing how to deal with the grief, I acted out, landed my ass in detention a lot. Mama said I needed an outlet so she signed me up for lessons at the Y. Actually kinda helped." He leaned his head back against the wall. "Still helps when I get stuck or hit bad times."

Alex made a surprised noise. "You? Hit bad times? Come on, you're a famous actor!"

"Ah, so you do know who I am." Erik shot the kid an amused grin. He'd been wondering when he'd be recognized by Charles' kids.

Alex _pff_ ed. "I watch movies. I didn't want to be one of _those_ fans," he said sheepishly.

Erik bumped his shoulder. "Nothing to be ashamed of. I like meeting people who like my movies. It's a good feeling, knowing your work is appreciated," he informed him. "You ever want an autograph or a photo, just let me know. I'd be more than happy to."

The kid shrugged and fell silent. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Erik studied him out of the corner of his eye. Maybe he wouldn't have to work as hard at this as he'd thought. He and Alex had similar personalities. The kid needed someone to knock him down a few pegs every now and then. Like he did.

"What's your deal with Charles?" Alex abruptly asked.

Erik blinked, lifting his head to stare at him. Where had that come from? "What?"

Alex shifted to face him. "There's something going on between the two of you. Like, he wants you around but he's pissed. Did you do something to him?"

Perceptive kid. "Ah, yeah. Sort of." Erik ran a hand through his hair. "Well, okay. Long story short? Charles and I were engaged, a long time ago, but I made a huge mistake. My career took off, but the cost was Charles and any sort of relationship with him."

"You dumped him."

"Never meant to," Erik instantly responded. "It was a foolish, idiotic move and I deeply, deeply regret it."

"So. . . what?" Alex lifted an eyebrow. "You think you're gonna fix it? By hanging with us? Dude, that only happens in movies."

Erik let his head hit the wall again with a soft _thunk_. "Maybe I'll get lucky this time," he murmured, half to himself.


	7. Chapter 7

**So this one's kind of long, a bit of an info dump but it serves to move the plot along :)**

* * *

The volunteers were in full swing, revolving between the kitchen and serving out front. Raven and Moira were laughing and tossing flour at each other as they made cookies. Charles was everywhere, keeping an eye on things, making sure food didn't run out, that everyone had something to eat and drink.

Noticing that they were getting low on Styrofoam plates, Charles ducked into the storage room and frowned. He couldn't remember where they were, so he just started rifling through boxes. Beans. Stuffing. Seasoning mixes. Spices. Plastic silverware. Cans of evaporated milk. Styrofoam cups.

Ah, finally.

Plates. He grabbed a few packages and pushed the door open with his hip. Starting back through the kitchen, Charles caught sight of a familiar figure leaning against a counter, tall, lean, dark-haired, an easy smile on his face.

Erik?

The plates tumbled to the floor.

What the hell . . .? How did he even. . .

A giggle rang out above the noise and Charles frowned. Of course. Raven. She must have told him and of course Charles would never turn someone away on today of all days. Thanksgiving was a day of sharing with those who had little or nothing.

The squeak of plastic beneath his feet startled him. Charles bent down to pick up the plates, straightened, and locked eyes with Erik.

His pulse picked up. He swallowed past a suddenly tight throat.

Erik smiled and waved across the kitchen at him.

 _Breathe, Charles. Just breathe normally. Act normally._ _Focus on the work._ It was as if his feet moved of their own accord, dragging him across the kitchen to the trio.

"Charles, you'll never guess who just showed up!" Raven giggled.

Erik greeted him cheerfully. "Hey."

"If you're going to be here, you might as well help." Charles handed him the plates. "Take these out front and see if they need anything."

Erik winked. "Yes, sir."

After he left, Charles rounded on his sister. "What is he doing here?"

"Oh come on! I thought you two were making up!"

"Raven, I want nothing to do with him!"

Raven laughed. "Oh, please, Charles. You know you're softening towards him. It's just a matter of time before you give in and spend more than two minutes with him."

Charles glowered at her then leaned around to look at Moira. "Nothing to say?"

Moira shook her head. "Whatever you want to do about Erik is up to you. So long as I don't have to pick up the pieces again."

The mood dipped. Charles sighed, ran a hand through his hair, scrubbed his face. Defeated, he asked, "Why, Raven?"

"He wants to help."

Moira muttered, "Sure he does," and shoved a tray into the oven. She gave Charles a quick hug and murmured in his ear, "You want to talk to Erik, talk to Erik. You want to ignore him, ignore him. Whatever makes you feel better is all I want." He hugged her briefly back before letting her return to cookie-making.

"You, shush," Raven ordered her. To her brother, she continued, "Erik is living in a hotel. We are the only people in New York he knows besides his agent and film crew so since we were here, I invited him. Besides, I figured we could use the extra hands." She winked and Charles felt himself flush.

"Just—just keep him away from me, okay? I don't need the extra stress." _Or the reminders_. Charles headed to the cafeteria, tossing over his shoulder, "Get him an apron!"

He watched Erik ripping the plastic off the plates and handing them out to people in line, talking easily with them, no matter their age. Leaning against the wall, Charles took a deep breath. Erik had his interview persona on. That version of the man who could answer the same questions a million times and not show his irritation.

He smiled faintly as Erik knelt down to personally hand a plate to a little girl wearing clothes too big for her. The girl sucked on her thumb, ducking her head as Erik spoke to her, and she suddenly beamed up at him. Erik really was adorable with little girls.

Oh dear god, he had to stop doing this.

But maybe. . .

Maybe Raven had a point. He could remain stubborn and refuse to mend fences.

Or he could give Erik a chance to explain himself after all these years.

Maybe.

Half an hour later, Charles caught sight of someone else who shouldn't be here and made a beeline for him. "Alex, what are you doing here? How did you get here?"

Caught by surprise, Alex said, "Charles! Um, well, I can't see Scott and I don't get along with the others at juvie so I figured I'd come here. I convinced an Uber driver to take me." He shrugged. "I like it here."

"You're welcome here anytime, Alex," Charles assured him. "Do you want to help?" The teen nodded and Charles put an arm around his shoulders, leading him to the kitchen. "I hate to do this to you, but do you mind washing pots and pans for me?"

"I guess not." Alex waved at Erik as they passed him on the serving line. Charles glanced between them, wondering when they'd gotten so friendly.

* * *

Erik squeezed more soap onto his sponge and attacked the pot that had mashed potatoes practically molded onto the sides with it. When the line started to die down out front, he'd come in and swapped places with Alex, giving the kid a break. He caught a glimpse of his pruned fingers and chuckled softly. Surprising, how much he actually liked washing dishes. His fans would have a heart attack if they found out. The thought amused him far more than it probably should. Maybe he should leak a photo to the press, see them all freak out once they saw Famous Actor Erik Lensherr washing dishes on the cover of their favorite tabloids. He chuckled again, enjoying the thought far more than he should. Az would kill him, though, if he actually went through with it.

Something clanked next to him and he glanced over to see Charles set several empty containers on the counter to be washed. Erik turned back to his washing but Charles hovered. Curious, Erik glanced over at him.

Charles looked at him and said softly, "Okay. You win. One dinner where I will listen to your side."

Relieved, Erik said, "Thank you."

Charles shrugged. "I figure you've earned it by now. Besides, it's only fair and healthy to get it all in the open. I'm not promising anything, though."

Erik nodded. "I know; I appreciate the chance, anyway."

Charles took a deep breath, nodded once and walked away.

Erik tilted his head back and closed his eyes, resisting the urge to fist-pump the air. _Yes._ He knew, just _knew_ , if he could get his story out, things would change between them. And for the better.

He picked up the next dish, his heart feeling lighter.

* * *

"Yes, all right." Charles opened the door to his office and stepped in. "I will have the paperwork sent to you by Monday. Thank you again, Melanie, for helping me with this."

He hung up and went to check his email. Who knew there was so much paperwork involved in the adoption process?

Rounding his desk, he reached out to jog the mouse and wake the monitor up but his attention was distracted by a bright yellow post-it note stuck to the top of the screen. _What on earth…?_ Charles scanned it and rolled his eyes. The note read:

 _Saturday_

 _Applebee's on 4th and Lex_

 _8:30 pm._

 _See you there,_

 _Erik_

Laughing a little, Charles tugged it off and pulled up his email. Right then, Erik. Saturday evening it was. Fifty emails awaited his response but he was searching for one in particular. Ah, there. Melanie had forwarded the necessary documents he needed to fill out.

As he waited for the first one to download, Charles' gaze drifted back to the post-it. Reading it again, he smiled. Erik had chosen a time after the center had closed. Perhaps there was reason to hope they could be friends at the end of this.

* * *

 _Tap, tap, tap, tap_. . . Erik refused to look at his watch again. He scanned the restaurant again.

Still no sign of Charles.

He wouldn't just not come, right?

He'd be here.

8:47 p.m.

A burst of cold air reached him and he looked up. Relief flooded him and Erik slid out of his seat, waving to catch Charles' eye.

A small smile crossed his face as he watched the familiar figure of Charles weave his way through the restaurant to their table.

"Hey," Charles said, his face adorably pink from the cold. He peeled off his coat and sat down. "Sorry I'm late. One of the boys was throwing up. It took me forever to get a hold of his parents."

"It's no problem. Is he okay?"

Charles glanced up at him. "I think it's just the flu. Should be fine in a few days, so long as he stays home and rests."

Knowing a bit more about the home lives of some of the kids who frequented the center, Erik was sure the boy would be back tomorrow. He nodded, even as he wondered which kid. "Good to hear."

Conversation stuttered to a halt at that point so it was a good thing the waitress showed up at that point. "Hello, my name's Jenna and I'll be your server tonight." She smiled brightly at them, and tucked her hair behind her ear. He'd taken a quick selfie with her earlier along with a promise to keep his presence a secret until he'd left. "Can I start you with some drinks while you look over the menu?"

Erik ordered, "Mountain Dew, for me."

Charles turned to the menu. "Um, where . . .?"

Erik leaned over and opened it to the correct page. "At the bottom, there."

"Ah. Thank you." Charles looked it over quickly then smiled up at Jenna. "Strawberry iced tea, please."

Jenna nodded. "Sure thing." She walked off, sliding her notepad into the pouch at her waist.

Awkward silence filled the space between them.

Erik flipped through his menu, not really reading it as he tried to gauge Charles' mood. Would he be receptive? Or would this end in them yelling at each other again?

Charles, on the other hand, was very obviously nervous. He fidgeted, adjusting his coat on the seat back. Flipped the menu pages back and forth. Bit his lower lip.

That last one was especially distracting to Erik, as it just drew his attention. And his libido. _Focus._

Jenna returned, setting drinks in front of them. "There you go. You ready to order or do you need a minute?"

Shit. Erik quickly flicked through the entrées. "I'll take the sirloin stir-fry."

Charles said quietly, "Grilled chicken with mixed vegetables and a baked potato. Thank you."

Jenna wrote the orders down, repeated them then gathered the menus and left.

Charles took a sip of his tea and gestured towards Erik. "Okay. I'm listening."

Okay. Where to start. . . Erik folded his hands together and rested them on the table. "Okay. So. You know I was having trouble getting anything beyond a passing guest role on TV, couldn't get anything in film. I'd get something and then I'd have to wait until eight months later to pick something up again and six months later another part would come up. It was sporadic and mainly TV stuff. I couldn't get anything more." Charles nodded. This had been a source of worry between them, even with Charles' salary. "So, what you probably don't know is that I was starting to wonder if I was just going to be a background actor my entire career and I couldn't live on that kind of salary. _We_ couldn't live on that salary. On wondering if I would actually have a job from month to month. I know you were doing well at the university but I didn't want to depend on your income. I wanted to contribute. So when I got wind of Eastman working on something that he was sure was going to be a hit, I knew I wanted in. It was going to be a series, trilogy at the very least." Erik shrugged. "So I threw my hat in the ring."

Charles was just studying him now, occasionally playing with the straw wrapper.

Erik took a sip of his drink to wet his throat and continued, "Az fought for them to send me the script, even part of it. When I finally got it, we were in full-on wedding planning and I didn't want to stress you out any more than you already were. So I just said that I had a movie audition, didn't tell you what the project was—claimed I didn't want to jinx it." Something flashed across Charles' face; too quick to nail down. Did he remember that? "So I kept it to myself. We went on with things, with planning. Maybe a week before the wedding, Eastman's assistant called Az and said they were reworking the production schedule and did I mind moving the audition back a couple weeks." Erik shrugged. "I said no problem, thinking we'd be back from our honeymoon by then. I did ask if you minded me doing a movie right after we got back; you said as long as it didn't interfere with our honeymoon, then you didn't mind."

Jenna returned at that point with their food and they ate in silence for a few minutes. Charles eventually asked, "I remember you mentioning something about a big break coming your way, but you never really mentioned it again. Nor do I really remember you studying a script. . . So, what changed? Because clearly something did or we'd still be in L.A."

Erik sighed. "I was in the limo on my way to the church, fighting through traffic, when Az got a call. Eastman wanted me to audition right at that moment. The driver was already turning around when I asked what was going on. I demanded he turn back, that I was already late. Az refused, said I needed this. I did, but not at the cost of us." He shook his head, remembering. "We fought. I finally threw open the door, the car slammed to a stop and I got out. I tried calling you. Several times but nothing went through. I couldn't even get a text out until later."

Charles said softly, "I did wonder why it took hours before you finally texted me. An apology. You must have known I'd be nervous, but I never received anything."

"I wonder now if Az might have done something to my phone, to keep me from reaching you. But he'd have had to have known the change ahead of time. . ." Erik's voice trailed off as this new thought struck him. Had his agent engineered this whole thing? Fucking Hollywood. Good thing he was getting out. "Anyway, I tried the girls, even Hank, but still couldn't get through. By then, I was so incredibly late. Figured I might as well do the audition, Eastman loved it, made me do it again with one of the actresses they'd already cast. Afterwards, I made Az swing by the church for the hell of it. Walked through it alone, hoping you'd somehow still be there but of course you weren't. Why would you be? It was at least three hours later." Charles wouldn't meet his gaze. "I went back to our place, found your keys and the wedding bands on the table and. . . your things. . . the things you couldn't live without. . . were gone. Just empty places remained."

Erik's hand shook as he picked up his cup, hoping the sugar would settle his nerves a bit. "I tried to find you. For _years_ , Charles, I tried to find you and fix things. I lost it. I lost myself when you left. I'm not trying to make you feel guilty or anything but without you, it was like I had no more reason to be happy. I threw myself into my work, took anything and everything. Eastman's movie became a blockbuster and suddenly everyone wanted me in their movies. It turned into a five movie deal. And for a few years, Az was thrilled at my rising star. Then he realized the toll everything was taking on my life.

"This never made it into the tabloids, thank god, but I was in rehab every couple of months. For alcohol. For drugs. I lost weight, got depressed. I did everything to try and forget you but I couldn't. I guess I just couldn't live without you. Finally Az got sick of it and started looking for you. I'm not even sure when that was, to be honest." Erik had to stop for a minute and force the mental door closed. He ran a hand through his hair, swallowed. "I woke up one day, couldn't remember what I'd done the night before, found a note taped to my door with Raven's phone number on it. Took a while to work up the courage to call her. Took even longer to get her to not hang up on me." Charles smiled a little at that. "Eventually we mended our relationship. I sent her the premiere tickets, hoping she could get you to come. Obviously that didn't work. Don't know why I thought it would but I wanted you to come so I could see you, but you didn't and now here we are." Erik paused, his story finally done, and said softly, "I miss you, Charles. Nothing feels right without you."

Charles remained silent, no reaction clear on his face that Erik could see, and looked down at his food. Pushed vegetables around.

Erik felt his heart sink.

Minutes passed.

Finally, Charles said quietly, "I hated you . . . for a long time." Erik winced. Charles continued, "I tried to act like you didn't exist, just flat-out avoiding anything that had to do with you. Raven worried about my wellbeing. I crashed on her couch for months, then on Moira's when Raven kicked me out, saying I had to face the world. She was worried, hoping the jolt would force me to do something. Moira helped me get a job but I refused to . . . to even talk about it, about what had happened. I guess. . . I understand a bit more . . . now, and it was both our faults, I suppose. Maybe if I had waited for you to get home before running away, if I had left a note or something, maybe things wouldn't have gotten this screwed up between us." He fell silent, picking at the remains of his meal, eyes fixed on his plate.

Erik hesitantly ventured, "And now that you know my side?"

Charles glanced up, those blue eyes so bright. "Do you want my side?"

Erik nodded. "Of course." He didn't particularly want to hear about how badly he'd hurt Charles, but they both needed to share.

Charles looked skeptical but spoke anyway. "I remember that day perfectly; it's seared into my memory. Raven insisted on the whole not-seeing-each-other-before-the-ceremony thing. I thought it was silly but whatever. I kept pacing back and forth in my dressing room, trying to keep the nerves down. I kept checking my phone, hoping for a text from you; some sort of reassurance like you always did. But there was never anything. The closer it got to the ceremony start time, the more nervous I got. I tried to convince Moira to let me see you but she told me I had to stay in the room. In retrospect, that's when it started falling apart." Charles sighed. "Hank finally snuck in and told me you hadn't arrived yet. Panicking, of course, I called you but it went right to voicemail. No replies to my texts."

"That would be when I somehow lost service," Erik realized. Shit.

Charles nodded. "Makes sense. But, see, now I was starting to really panic. What if you weren't just late, you were in trouble? Or in an accident? What if you were dying in the hospital and no one knew I needed to be told? Raven kept telling me I was making things worse thinking like that; this was L.A. and it was probably just traffic. Every conceivable excuse ran through my head, every single possible way I could lie to myself and say you were on your way, that at any moment you would burst into my room, pull me close and apologize for worrying me. And every second that that didn't happen, I felt things starting to break."

Jenna popped by at that exact moment, with a bright smile and a refill on their drinks. "How's everything? Food good? Did you want dessert?"

Erik and Charles stared at each other for a moment, Charles' eyes suspiciously bright. Erik said, "Just the check, thank you."

Jenna's tone faltered. "O—of course. Be right back!"

Erik leaned forward, reaching out to squeeze his hands. "Charles, I am so sorry. I should have tried harder to get a hold of you."

Pulling his hands free, Charles shook his head, half-shrugging. "How could you? No cell service and of course no one has pay phones anymore. After an hour, the minister said he had another ceremony to do. After two hours, I finally gave up, found some champagne and drank the entire thing. Raven came in and I just fell apart." He shrugged. "Of course, all the champagne hadn't helped my mood any so I cried; she vowed to ruin your life like any good sister would. The guests had mostly left by then so I met Raven and Moira in the limo we were going to take to the airport. We called around to all the hospitals, tried to reach Azazel. Nothing. No one could find you. So I came to the conclusion that that "big break" you talked about was more important than marrying me and I decided I wanted nothing to do with you." Erik made a pained sound. Charles shot him a look. "You wanted to know everything." Continuing, Charles said, "The three of us went back to the apartment, packed what I decided I couldn't leave behind, left my keys on the table and we were on the first flight back to New York where I spent the next few months depressed and living on my sister's couch."

Charles shrugged. Jenna brought the check. "I tried _so_ hard to put you away, to not think about you. I finally found some sort of stability in my life and then your career took off and your name and your face were _everywhere_. I couldn't stop seeing you and I couldn't stop wishing things had been different. And then you walked into my community center and I just. . ." His voice cracked then rose in volume. "I wanted to hurt you like you did me. I told you, I _asked_ you not to do the audition. I told you you didn't need some big break, that I just wanted _us_ for a while. Remember? We talked about this. To get out of Hollywood for a bit. To get married, have a real honeymoon away from the paparazzi and you went and did it anyway. I didn't have the full story then but it hurt . . . a lot. So I did what I felt I needed to at the time, for me." He paused, blinked rapidly. "Now I do wish I had waited a bit longer to find out why you didn't show but that's in the past and we can't change any of it now."

Erik closed his eyes, trying to figure out what to say. Trying to get past the lump in his throat at the pain in Charles' voice. Jesus, this was fucked up. How the hell did he get out of this one? Opening his eyes, he found Charles studying him. "I'm sorry. I know it doesn't mean anything now but I am truly sorry, Charles. You're right; we can't change what we did. But we can change what we do next and I would really like for us to move forward. Together. As a couple."

Charles sighed. "I don't know if we can do that, Erik. Yes, everything's out in the open but I finally got my life together and I don't know if I can go back into the Hollywood light again. Don't know if I want to."

Erik had no response to that; nothing that would help, anyway. He could say he was retiring but he was still a huge name, would still be recognized and asked for photos and autographs, still be followed by paparazzi. He pulled out a credit card, slid it into the checkbook and waited for Jenna to come back and run it through the register. Charles avoided his gaze as Jenna glanced curiously between them, grabbing the book as she flew by with a tray.

When she returned, Charles immediately stood up, pulling his coat on. Erik shoved his card in his wallet and stood as well, following Charles to the door. He ached to touch Charles, even to just brush their fingers together, but he didn't dare.

Outside, they paused. Erik ventured, "So. . . where does this leave us?"

"I think. . . I think I just need some time to work through things. You showing up kinda threw me. So. . . we can try at being friends, I suppose, for now."

Erik nodded. "I'll be around."

Charles smiled faintly, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. "Of that I have no doubt. Although I am starting to doubt you are actually working on a film."

Erik laughed. "Yeah, it's just one of those sappy Hallmark Christmas movies. Not much to it, really."

Charles nodded. Frowned. "Wait, I thought you hated those?"

He lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. "They're easy. Predictable. But it gave me a reason to stay in New York after the premiere of _Battle Magic_."

"I see." Charles glanced over his shoulder and back to him. "Well. Good night, then. . . Erik."

"Good night, Charles." He watched Charles walk away, climb in his car and drive off before letting his breath out in a rush. He ran a hand through his hair and muttered, "Well, that could have gone better." Stepping to the curb, Erik flung out a hand to hail a taxi. "But it could have gone worse, too." A yellow car pulled up. He climbed in and rattled off the name of the hotel the film was putting him up in then leaned back against the leather.


	8. Chapter 8

Dust flew and Charles coughed, flapping a hand to try and clear the air. God, how long had it been since he'd been down here? He shifted another box, this time turning his head to avoid the dust cloud. Maybe he should have brought a rag or something to clean. No; he was not here to clean. He was looking for something specific.

But, dammit, what had he labeled the bloody thing?

 _Thump._ More dust. Well, there went _that_ tower of boxes. Charles wiped his forehead. When had he become such a packrat? Or was he a hoarder?

He smiled. Raven would definitely call him a hoarder.

Okay. He would move a few more boxes and if he hadn't found it by then, he'd give up.

Several boxes later, Charles found himself staring at a box marked "Hollywood." Fairly large, it was tucked into the farthest corner of the storage room, as far away from the door as it could possibly be and at the bottom of a pile of other boxes he'd had to move. It took a considerable amount of willpower to actually pick up the box and carry it up to his apartment, locking the storage room behind him.

Setting the box on his bed, Charles sat in front of it, folding his legs under him. He stared at it for a moment then took a deep breath and cracked the tape, peeling the lid slowly open. A photo greeted him first—a candid of him and Erik in front of a window, nighttime outside the glass; presumably taken by Raven. They were at some sort of party, it looked like. A fancy dress affair; both of them were in suits. Photo-Erik had an arm around photo-Charles' waist, gazing down at him with that soft smile he reserved just for Charles. And as for himself. . . well, photo-Charles' hands were wrapped around Erik's waist, leaning into him, and was gazing up at Erik like nothing else in the world mattered.

Charles' throat tightened. Gently brushing his fingers across the image of them, Charles picked it up, flipped it over. Raven's neat handwriting informed him that the photo was of _"Charles/Erik got engaged—10/18/08. Erik proposed, nice enough. Could've done better, but Charles said yes anyway."_

He promptly dropped it and left the room.

Nope.

Nope. Nope, bad idea. Very bad idea.

Minutes later, armed with a full mug of tea, Charles ventured back to the box. Resettled on the bed, he read the back again and couldn't help but laugh at the typical Raven caption. Laying it to the side, Charles peered in the box. More photos greeted him. He pulled them out and slowly flipped through them.

All of him and Erik, sometimes with friends but mainly alone.

Candids.

Selfies.

Dates.

Kisses.

Parties, birthdays, hanging with friends . . . Charles smiled as he flipped through them, reading the captions and remembering little things.

Photo albums came next. He used to be big on scrapbooking, on getting everything into one place for posterity, especially big events in their lives. Inside these albums were:

Vacations.

Graduations.

First apartment.

Second and third apartments.

First audition. First callback. First actual role. First teaching position.

The move to Los Angeles.

He had to leave the room again at that point, struggling to breathe steadily.

God, the memories . . . at times they threatened to completely overwhelm him.

Charles was pleased to find, though, that the memories weren't nearly as painful as he'd thought they would be. Oh they hurt all right, but not as much as before. Maybe he had actually healed somewhat. Huh.

Refilling his tea, Charles returned to the box. Another album, this one involving touring their new home and starting their new careers. A few more loose photos lay at the bottom, along with playbills, autographs, etc. from when they were invited to premieres and after parties. Programs from awards shows. He smiled; those had been such fun in the beginning. Meeting his idols, favorite stars. Even Erik fanboyed once in a while; that always put a smile on Charles' face.

He frowned. Where was their engagement album? He knew he'd made one. Was it in a different box? Or maybe he'd left it back in L.A.?

Shifting as he thought, something glinted, catching his eye. Charles leaned forward. Something was caught in the folds of the box and he reached in, wriggling it out into view.

His breath caught. His engagement ring. Oh god, he'd kept it?

Of course he kept it, he told himself; he was a hoarder. Probably the only reason he'd taken these with him when he moved back east.

Staring at it, Charles twisted it between his fingers, watching the light catch on the diamond. It really was quite beautiful. Three alternating black and silver bands, an infinity symbol on one side with a solitaire diamond on the band directly across from the symbol. Erik had exquisite taste and he remembered being completely blown away when he'd seen it the first time.

Still staring at it, Charles slid it onto his left ring finger and held his hand out, echoing the movements from that evening. He tilted his head, thinking. _What if I had let Erik find me?_ he wondered. _What if we had mended things sooner? What would our lives be like right now, I wonder. . ._

"CHARLES!"

Charles jerked, the moment shattering, the pile of photo albums tumbling onto the covers.

"CHARLES, WE'RE GOING TO BE LATE!"

Bloody hell, Raven. Of course! He hurriedly threw a blanket over the photos and darted into the hall, hoping to stave his sister off before she could see his wallowing. "Raven, what is with all the yelling?" he called through the door as he grabbed a coat, his things and the tickets he'd taped to the wall so as not to forget them.

"It's rush hour, Charles! We should have been on the road, like, twenty minutes ago! You were supposed to pick _me_ up, not the other way around."

He stepped out into the hall, his coat hastily buttoned, and flashed her a grin as he locked the door. "Sorry, love, but I was in the middle of something and lost track of time."

She grabbed his arm and dragged him to the elevator. "Story of your life, Charles. Jeez. And come on, is that what you're wearing?" Raven stabbed the "down" button, judging his outfit. Under the coat, he wore black slacks, a white button down—open slightly at the collar—with a black vest over it. All slightly dusty and rumpled from his adventure in the storage room.

Charles scowled, yanking his arm free. "It's a musical, Raven, not the opera. Nobody cares what I wear, especially since it will be dark in the theatre."

 _Ding_! "Ugh," Raven said as they stepped inside. "I swear, you had more fashion sense back when you were a fuddy-duddy professor."

"Ha ha," Charles replied drily, reaching around her to hit the "L" button. Something on his hand glinted and he blinked. _Shit._ He was still wearing the ring! But he couldn't draw Raven's attention to it so he said, "So what would be an acceptable outfit to see _A Christmas Carol_ , then?" As Raven started in on the appropriate attire for the theatre, Charles tried to subtly wrestle with the ring, twisting it this way and that in an attempt to get it past his knuckle.

Stepping out into the lobby, Raven said, "What the hell is wrong with your hand?"

"Ah, uhm, itch."

She threw him a skeptical look but he only caught a glimpse of it as the ring _finally_ popped off. Relieved, Charles quickly shoved it in a pocket and held the door, smiling at her. "Want me to drive?"

* * *

"No. For the last time, I am not going to visit your film set. I have had quite enough of those to last me several lifetimes."

Erik rolled his eyes, leaning back against Charles' bookcase. "But this one's different. It's a lot more relaxed—"

"Yes, I can see that." Charles glanced up from his computer to lift an eyebrow. "Evidenced by the fact that you are constantly here instead. Do you have a bit part?"

Erik made a face. "Har har, Charles," he responded in a dry tone. Charles grinned briefly. "You could advise them on holiday decorations. You still love Christmas, right?"

"Favorite holiday," Charles answered absently, spinning his chair to rummage in a box on the floor. A few days of ruminating on things . . . and a walk down memory lane . . . had led Charles to soften towards Erik. Things were no longer strained, even if they were still awkward. On the road to being friends again, perhaps.

"Your office needs organized."

"Now you sound like the girls." Charles spun back around. "I have a system and it works." He flapped a hand at the actor. "Now shoo; I'm sure Pietro's waiting for you. Alex, too, most likely." The teens idolized Erik and he was a good enough role model that Charles felt it was okay to foster the connection.

Erik sighed dramatically. "Fine. I'll go play with the kids and leave you to your work."

"Thanks." Charles frowned. The numbers weren't adding up. Who filled this out? Ah. Oops, he did. When did . . .? He heard the door open but when it didn't close immediately Charles looked up to see Erik hesitating in the doorway. He asked, "What is it?"

Erik bit his lip. "Um . . ."

Suspicious, Charles' eyes narrowed. "Erik? What?"

"WeregoingtobefilmingtheSantaClausecenehere," Erik blurted out in one breath.

Charles blinked several times, trying to make sense of it. "I'm sorry, what?"

Erik took a breath and said, slower, "We're going to be filming the Santa Claus scene . . . here. At the center."

Charles stared, the information sinking in. Then he slowly shook his head. "No," he refused, appalled. "No, you are not."

Erik took a step back into the room. "Charles, it's the perfect place for it. It's a community center, like in the script. Plenty of space, we'll supply the decorations. It'll only take a day, two at the most." His tone was pleading, gently reassuring.

Charles stood. "This is _my_ center, Erik, and nobody asked me if it was okay for a movie crew to film in here!"

"Az said he and the director did everything by the book. You should have been notified," Erik responded, sounding confused.

"By the book? You really trust Azazel, after everything?"

"He found you," Erik replied simply and Charles sank back into his chair, scrubbing his face.

Finally, Charles looked up. "I want to talk to them. There are rules to abide by. And the kids are not to be involved in any way, is that clear?"

Erik nodded. "Don't worry. We just need the gym . . . or possibly the cafeteria. I don't know what they'll want, setting-wise."

"Fine," he sighed. "Please don't mention this to the kids, though; I don't want to have to deal with arguments over whether or not Santa is real."

* * *

Two days later, Erik rapped on Charles' office door. "Hey, you busy?"

"Sort of. What's up?"

"Film crew's here to see the space."

Charles' head snapped up and whatever he was focused on was immediately discarded as he stood. "Erik, I thought they were going to come early enough that the kids wouldn't be here."

Erik started down the hall with him. "They're not filming, didn't even bring equipment other than a camera or two. They're just seeing what the space looks like, what they can fit, stuff like that."

"I still don't like it."

"Now, you and I both know you're just saying that," Erik said with a grin, "because you don't want to admit that I'm right and nothing's going to go wrong."

"You aren't right," Charles responded, rounding the corner. "I still don't want them here but apparently I have no say."

"You do. Just not in whether or not we film here." Cajoling, Erik added, "Come on, it's Santa Claus, Charles."

"Santa?"

They both whirled around at the tiny hopeful voice. Eva stood in a doorway, fairy wings on her back and a wand in hand, eyes wide. "Santa's here?" she asked.

Charles shot Erik a glare then crouched in front of the girl. Gently, he explained, "No, sweetie, Santa's not here. He's up in his workshop, getting ready to bring presents to good little girls like you."

Eva, however, had her eyes fixed on Erik. "So. . . Santa's not coming?" she asked, her voice quavering.

Charles shot Erik a look over his shoulder as he stood. Coming to stand beside him, Charles said tightly, "Fix this, Erik."

Oh, he was not going to hear the end of this. Erik bit back a sigh but took Charles' vacated spot in front of Eva and said, "Santa's not coming right now, Eva." Her lower lip shook. He could practically feel the dagger in his back at Charles' glare. Probably had his arms crossed, as well. He bit back a smile at the image and scrambled for an acceptable excuse for the six-year-old. "You heard what Charles said, right? Santa's just. . . busy. He's got presents to make and reindeer to take care of."

"But—but you said Santa was here."

"No, no I said he might be coming." Christ, how could he fix this?

The lip stopped quivering then turned into a smile. Eva asked, "He _is_ coming? Here?"

"Ah, well, um. . ." _Shit._

Eva hugged him—smacking him in the back of the head with her wand—then took off running down the hall, screaming, "SANTA'S COMING SANTA'S COMING SANTA'S COMING SANT. . ."

Erik straightened, turning to face Charles with trepidation.

Charles set his jaw. "Thanks, Erik. Now I have to deal with _that_ for the next three weeks." He turned and strode off, forcing Erik to jog to catch up.

Erik bumped his shoulder. "You have to let us do it now. You'd break Eva's heart if Santa didn't show."

"But he won't be." Charles sighed, the tension lessening in his shoulders. He ran a hand through his hair. "Christ, Erik, now I have to find a fake Santa Claus to stop by. And it's gotta be cheap. It's the end of the year; I'm low on funds at the moment. Unless I can convince the actor to do it pro bono."

"Let me talk to him. I'm sure he'll do it once I explain about the kids."

"Fine. As long as he understands that most of the kids here actually do still believe that Santa is a real person."

"I will talk to Logan personally," Erik promised, placing a hand on his chest.

"Mmhmm."

The crew was in the main lobby, wandering around and talking quietly with each other. "Hey, guys!" Erik called out and waved them over. "So this is Charles Xavier; he runs the place. Charles, this is Pierce—the director. Ned, Ian and John—cameramen."

The cameramen nodded a hello. Pierce shook Charles' hand. "Appreciate the loan of the place, Mr. Xavier."

Charles shot Erik a pointed look. "My pleasure, of course. So what kind of scene are we talking here? All Erik told me was you would have a Santa Claus. . . ?"

Pierce nodded. "Yeah, so this is the part of the movie where the single mom takes her kids to meet Santa Claus at the soup kitchen she volunteers at. Erik's character, of course, is trying to convince her that he's not a total asshole and wants to go out with her but she's having none of it. His solution is to come and pretend to work but she actually puts him to work when she sees he's there."

Charles nodded thoughtfully, his foot tapping on the floor. "Okay . . . so, I'm assuming you won't mind that I'm working on decorating the center myself?" When they shook their heads, he continued, "Come with me. I think I have just the place."

Pierce glanced at Erik then stepped aside and gestured. "Lead the way, Mr. Xavier. Guys, grab the equipment. It's too expensive to leave by the doors."

Erik suggested, "Why not leave it behind the desk? Mark could keep an eye on it."

"Mark?" Ian queried. Erik raised an eyebrow and jerked a thumb at the teen staring at them.

Pierce shook his head. "No, I need to be able to see where we can fit cameras and such. We'll take them with us."

"If we're all set," Charles interrupted, "I'd like to get things going because I was in the middle of something when Erik informed me you were here."

Erik refrained from rolling his eyes and carefully kept his expression blank as the crew shot him questioning looks. Charles led them down the hall.

"Now, Pierce, there are some things that I have to tell you. I'm not sure what Erik's told you about this place—"

Pierce interrupted, "I understand you have concerns, but—"

"See that's the thing," Charles cut him off. "They're not just 'concerns.' They're requirements if you wish to film in my building."

 _Christ_. "Charles," Erik started.

"There are a lot of young children who come here. I will not have you put them to work, in any way, shape or form. And many of them come from homes where they are clearly not wanted or are uncomfortable around groups or adults. There are boundaries." Charles' voice was steel. Erik knew he wouldn't budge on this.

"I understand that but we have enough child actors to fill the background. We won't need to use any of yours."

Charles came to a stop in front of the cafeteria, turning to face Pierce. "I don't want you filming while they're here. Children start to arrive around 3:30; I expect you to be gone by then."

Pierce's eyes narrowed slightly. "Filming will take as long as it takes. We try to get things on the first or second shot but sometimes you just can't. We have legal permission to film here and that does not have a time limit on it."

They stared at each other for so long in silence that the other guys shifted their feet and Erik contemplated ideas on how to intervene. Would his opinion even matter to Pierce? Directors had their own ideas on how things should go.

Pierce capitulated first. "We'll try to do our best; keep things contained. That's the best I can offer."

Charles glanced at Erik. Erik nodded. _Let this one go, Charles,_ he silently pleaded. "All right. I can live with that."

"Good."

"One other thing. Your Santa Claus."

Pierce asked warily, "What about him?"

"He does not leave this room without his full costume on. Many of the children fully believe that he's real and I do not want to disabuse them of that one ounce of magic in their lives."

Pierce nodded. "Now that one, I can fully enforce."

Charles nodded. "Good." He shoved the door open. "I believe this will work, then."

The crew filed in but Erik hung back. He caught Charles' sleeve, drawing his attention. "Are we good?" he asked in an undertone, watching the others split up.

Charles watched them. "I don't appreciate the surprise."

"I know. I tried to get advance notice but I'm just an actor. I show up, I do my lines, that's it."

Charles looked at him. "You're more than that, you know."

He smiled faintly. "I know. But not to Pierce."

Charles sighed, said, "We're good," and stepped inside, aiming for where Ned was unfolding a tripod along the wall.


	9. Chapter 9

_"Something_ _to get me through the loneliness of Christmas Eve. I fell for you like crazy and I can't get thoughts of you . . . from me. So give me your warmest pair, your strongest pair of mittens please. . ._ " sang Charles as he grabbed a box and climbed the ladder. He loved Christmas music and especially loved when the radio stations played it nonstop. If he had his way, he'd have it playing year-round. Pulling out a roll of sparkly gold garland, Charles set about draping it along the wall, singing along as he did.

 _"Fake a smile so they won't see . . . wish that you were here with me. . ."_

The ladder wobbled as Charles overextended. He dropped the garland and gripped the ladder. A hand pressed against his lower back and then the ladder steadied. Charles' heart was pounding as he looked down and he felt it skip a beat as he beheld Erik.

Still in his pea coat, Erik smiled up at him. "I've got you, don't worry."

"Thanks," he replied, a little breathless. He turned to back only to find the free end of the garland out of his reach. "Um, do you . . . would you mind . . .?"

" _Walking through my old home town, no one else but me around. Make an angel in the snow; pray that I can let you go. I fell for you like crazy and I can't get thoughts of you . . . from me. So give meeee . . ._ "

Wordlessly, Erik reached around—his hand still holding Charles steady—to grab the garland and hand it up, their fingers brushing in the exchange and sending a burst of heat through him. _Steady, Charles_ , he told himself. _It's just the music that's got you feeling like this. Nothing is happening here._

" _Oh the weather outside is frightful. . ."_ the song switched to _Let It Snow._

It took a few minutes to get the garland just as he liked it, adding a few paper candy canes and snowflakes and such to add color. The whole while, he was hyperaware of Erik's touch. At one point, he even thought he heard Erik singing along to _Jingle Bells_.

Handing down the box, Charles carefully stepped off the ladder and said, "Hi."

Erik settled the box along his hip and chuckled. "Hi, yourself."

Striving for a light tone, Charles asked, "So I see you're off not working again."

Erik chuckled again. "Yeah, easiest work schedule I've ever had."

Charles picked up the radio, stuffed it into a box, picked it up and started down the hall.

"All done decorating?"

Charles eyed him askance. "Why, you bored?"

Erik grinned. "Put me to work."

His eyes narrowed slightly. _Challenge accepted._ "Be careful what you ask for."

Erik gently hip checked him. "I'm all yours."

Charles felt his heart stutter. The music played on, muffled though it was by the cardboard, Mariah Carey belting out. . . " _I just want you for my own. . . more than you could ever know. . ."_

"Follow me." Charles led the way to the main reception area and pointed at a pile of boxes. "Those are all for your movie's "Santa scene" and need to go the cafeteria, if you wouldn't mind."

"Not at all. Have you put your tree up yet?" Erik set down the box he was carrying and headed to the pile.

Charles set his down as well. _"I don't need to hang my stocking there upon the fireplace. Santa Claus won't make me happy with a toy on Christmas Day. . ."_ "The Center's or mine?"

Erik hoisted two boxes and turned around. "Both."

Charles studied him. He wanted to be friends but he was still keeping his walls up—still afraid of being hurt again. Yet Erik still managed to throw him off balance with just one word. Why would Erik care. . . right. He did care. He wanted to get back together. "Ah, the Center's is up in the cafeteria—the kids decorated it. As for mine, I have to get to the tree lot yet. Maybe this weekend, if Raven's available."

The intensity in Erik's gaze made him look away and shift his feet. "I'm available if you need a hand, Charles." Then he headed towards the cafeteria.

As soon as he was out of sight, Charles turned and dropped his head onto the top of the desk. "Oh fuck," he muttered. He made yet another mental note to kill Raven for bringing the two of them back into the same space. After a moment, Charles lifted his head, picked up the boxes and went to decorate another section of the building.

A section that did not need a ladder.

 _"All I want for Christmas is you. . .baby. . ."_

* * *

Alex mentioned the absence of Erik first. Charles just shrugged and said he's filming. Finally. Charles was taking the time to think about things, about the future of his relationship with Erik.

* * *

Scott noticed the next time. Then Eva, and Charles found himself wondering why Erik hadn't been by lately. Was he actually busy filming? Or had he decided to give up on wooing Charles? And that absolutely did not cause that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Not in the least.

He mentioned it offhandedly to Raven as they rummaged through his boxes of ornaments. "So, um, Raven. . . have, uh, have you heard from Erik recently?"

"Why? Did you have another fight?"

"No!" Charles paused. At least, he didn't think it was a fight. Was it? No, he decided. Just flirting on Erik's part and awkwardness on his. "I just haven't seen him in few days, is all."

"You're worried about him."

"I'm not! I just. . ." He scowled at her laughter. "Shut up," Charles snapped and started untangling strings of lights.

Giggling, Raven answered, "He's in London for the premiere of _Battle Magic._ They wanted him for that one specifically but I don't think he has plans to go to the others. Well, maybe Japan's since it's usually a big one, but I think that's it."

"Oh." His fingers worked through the lights for a few seconds in silence before he said, half to himself, "I wonder why he didn't tell me he was leaving town."

"Really, Charles?" Raven laughed and paused from her sorting. "All this time you've been wanting him to go away and when he actually _does_ , you're upset because he didn't say anything? And how exactly was he supposed to tell you? Was Erik supposed to come by and go 'oh, hey Charles, so I've got this premiere in London and I don't want to go, I'd much rather stay here and flirt with you but you don't want to hear that so bye?' And it's not like he can text you. You changed your number when you moved out here."

By now, Charles' mouth had fallen open and he was staring at his sister. His face burned and he hastily scrambled for something to say. He landed on, "I was just hoping for an actual goodbye this time around."

Raven rolled her eyes and snatched the lights from his lap. "You're giving him mixed signals, Charles. I really hope you figure out what it is you want from Erik before he actually does decide to move on."

* * *

"Oh my god, these are horrible. Where's the prop department? We've got to get rid of these." Charles overheard one of the crewmen say and turned to see two men standing around one of the trees along the wall, under the photo board.

Walking over, Charles said, "Excuse me, hi. My name's Charles; I own the place. Is there something I can help you with?"

One of them turned to him and gestured to the tree. "The decorations. They're horrible. Who put these up, a three year old?" The other guy snickered.

Charles' lips tightened. "As a matter of fact, yes. The children make decorations for the trees. They have ever since I opened the place."

The second poked one of them. "Well, we can't use these in the film. Hallmark demands a certain quality of set." He chuckled. "And these certainly ain't it. I'm gonna go get Alice."

"You most certainly will not!" Charles snapped. "This is still _my_ building, no matter what you may think. The decorations stay."

The two men looked at each other. The first one sighed. "Better go get the director."

Charles and the man stood in silence for the few minutes it took the other crewman to fetch the director.

"Okay, what seems to be the prob—Charles! Hey, what's wrong?" Pierce frowned as his gaze flicked between his employees and Charles.

Charles gestured to the tree. "Hi, Pierce. Your men seem to think that they can remove decorations from the tree—that my children have made—because they don't think that their "quality" matches what they think should be in a film."

Pierce sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Seriously, Jacob? I told you we were using the decorations already in place to save time." The first guy—Jacob—opened his mouth, no doubt to argue, but Pierce cut him off. "No, I don't care what your opinion is. I gave you specific instructions. Go help Nina with set dressing. You too, André." When the two crewmen had started off, Pierce turned to Charles. "Sorry about that, Charles."

Charles smiled briefly. He and Pierce had found a balance in their working relationship. "Thanks. I appreciate you helping me out."

"'course. If that's all, I have to get going." Pierce hurried off to join another group of crewmen.

Charles turned back to the tree and reached out to straighten a few of the handmade ornaments.

"Got a favorite?"

He whirled around and felt a smile blossom across his face. "Erik! When did you get back? How was London?"

Erik shrugged. "London's okay; rainy. Got back late last night. Why?" He smiled slyly. "Did you miss me?"

Charles felt his cheeks heat. "Ah, um." _Yes._ "You just didn't say anything before leaving."

Erik's expression turned apologetic. "Shit, sorry. I just figured it would be better to just go and get it over with. Give you some time on your own for a bit. Didn't even occur to me that you would take it that way, I'm so sorry."

Feeling a blush start to stain his cheeks, Charles quickly shook his head, touched and a little surprised that Erik had realized his feelings so quickly. "It's okay. Really. The kids just wondered why they hadn't seen you in a few days is all."

"Okay. If you're sure." Erik studied him for a minute. "So. . . _do_ you have a favorite ornament?"

"Actually, yes." Charles pointed out a very sparkly angel that looked more like a princess. "This one, right here."

Erik leaned over his shoulder to look, making Charles catch his breath. "Eva's, I'm guessing," Erik said confidently.

"Yeah," he replied, a little breathless. He turned back around, finding Erik inches away. Erik's eyes flicked to his lips then back up. Charles swallowed, feeling that familiar tug in his chest, and found himself leaning up.

"ALL RIGHT, PLACES EVERYONE! I WANT TO GET THIS STARTED, LET'S GO!" Pierce's voice suddenly rang throughout the cafeteria, forcing Charles and Erik to jump apart.

"Uh, I, uh. . ." Charles said ineloquently.

"I'm sorry; I have to go. We'll talk later, yeah?" Erik barely waited for Charles' nod before hurrying off amid Pierce's repeated bellow for his actors to get on set.

Charles promptly fled the cafeteria, finding the closest abandoned room and dropping into a chair.

Oh dear god, they'd almost kissed.

He'd almost kissed Erik.

Or Erik had almost kissed him?

And he'd wanted it.

But what did that mean? Sure, they could kiss and that would be okay. Right? But how much longer would Erik remain in New York? What would happen when he had to leave, go back to Los Angeles?

What would that mean for them? For him? He couldn't leave the center and the children. And he couldn't take Scott away, not now that he'd finally made friends here.

What would getting back together with Erik even accomplish?

"Hey, bub, could you give me directions to the cafeteria in this place?"

Charles looked up and quickly bit his lip to hide his amusement as he beheld a scruffy-looking Santa Claus in the doorway. "Hi. Um, yeah. . . uh, it's just. . . right around the uh corner. Can't miss it."

Santa nodded. "Thanks. Name's Logan."

Charles forced a quick smile. "Charles."

Santa-Logan smirked. "Nice to meet ya, Charles." With a wink, he left.

Charles let his breath out slowly. "Okay. Just. . .breathe. Just breathe, Charles. No need to figure everything out right now. Plenty of time for that." He tried to slow his breathing for a couple minutes. Then he let out a low groan. "This isn't working. Where's Moira when I need her?"

* * *

Charles finally managed to return to the cafeteria, leaning against the wall as he watched the female lead do a scene, Logan coming out and then Erik sneaking in. Charles smiled to himself as he watched, thinking that it was awfully similar to how Erik snuck into the kitchen at Thanksgiving. He had to bite back a laugh as Erik was caught by the woman.

Pierce yelled cut and the crew started to rearrange the set, while the actors walked off. Logan headed straight for him, pulling his beard down under his chin and shoving the hat back. "Hey, bub. We didn't get to chat earlier. Haven't seen you 'round before; you new here?"

"Ah, no," Charles replied, fighting a laugh. "I'm not part of the crew. I own this place."

Logan lifted an eyebrow. "Huh. You wanna get a drink?"

"No thanks."

Logan eyed him knowingly. "Girlfriend don't like you drinking in the middle of the day?"

"I don't have a girlfriend."

"Boyfriend?"

Charles looked at him quizzically. "Not. . . at the moment." Technically, not a lie.

He nodded, running his eyes down Charles' body. Charles shifted, feeling uncomfortable. "Good. You busy later?"

Didn't he just answer that? Charles blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm done after this scene; wanna get together somewhere quiet? Get to know each other better?" Logan wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"No, thank you." He shook his head, praying for Pierce to call the actors back to set.

"Why not? Damn, there is someone isn't there. Who is it? Do I know him? Is he here?"

Charles bit the inside of his cheek. "I'm not comfortable with this conversation, if you wouldn't mind changing the topic?"

Logan just stepped closer. "Come on," he said in a low voice, "I know we got som'thin' here."

Charles shook his head, unsure of how to extricate himself from the now extremely uncomfortable situation. "No, we don't. Please go away."

"Everything okay, Charles?"

Relief flooded through him at the sound of Erik's voice. Charles immediately slid closer to him and Erik slid an arm around his waist, anchoring Charles to him. "Erik, Logan was just introducing himself."

Logan was frowning, looking between them. "So that's how it is. Your loss, bub." He strutted away and Charles let out a breath.

Looking up at Erik, he told him, "Perfect timing." Then he got a good look at Erik and took a step back, pulling out of Erik's hold, and laughed a little as he asked, "What . . . what are you wearing?"

Erik made a face and picked at the green-and-red-striped elf costume he was wearing. He actually didn't look as ridiculous as he could. "Stupid elf outfit. Everything okay? Logan's not exactly PG."

Charles shook his head. "He just got the wrong impression, somehow."

"Yeah, but you looked like you were ready to run the moment you got the chance."

Charles blew out his breath. "Look, Erik, it's fine. It's not like I've never been propositioned before, admittedly not that bluntly, but still . . . Nothing I haven't heard before. And believe me, I heard worse back in Hollywood."

Sounding shocked, Erik repeated, "'I heard worse back in Hollywood'? Charles, what exactly have you heard?"

"Christ, Erik, it's Hollywood. What do you think I've heard?" Charles replied, slightly annoyed.

Erik crossed his arms. "I'd still like to hear it from you."

Charles sighed. "Fine. I've gotten everything from 'let's fuck, he'll never know' to 'you'd make a killing as an escort with those lips and that ass' to everyone thinking I'm with you just for the money you make. But I never listened and I never told you because I knew why I was with you and they didn't know us. It was uncomfortable, yes, but that's the price you pay to date an actor and live in Hollywood. Are you happier now, for knowing?"

Erik's jaw worked. Finally, he said tightly, "You should have told me."

"What could you have done?" Charles shrugged, feeling warm that Erik was getting all hot and bothered over events from a decade ago. "Besides, I'm sure you heard similar comments about yourself."

"Yeah, but not like that." Erik shook his head. "I'm so sorry you had to deal with that."

"Not your fault."

"Yeah, it kinda is."

"Erik—"

"I'm gonna talk to Logan. Make sure he keeps away from you."

Charles grabbed his arm as he started off. "Erik, don't start a fight with your coworker."

"I'm not. I'm just going to have a nice quiet chat with him about inappropriate comments made towards you." There was a promise in his voice.

"Erik, _Erik_ —don't. I don't think he'll do anything. Just drop it, okay?"

Erik faced him. "Why? Why doesn't this bother you? And don't say again that it's because you've heard it before. You shouldn't _have_ to hear it again!"

Charles sighed in frustration. Erik loved going all knight in shining armor but he tended to get a little overboard when it came to protecting Charles. Always had. "Look, just. . . I'll talk to him. Okay? Tell him if he does it again, I'll go to the director. Okay? Just please don't get into it with him, please."

Erik scowled.

"Please, Erik," he repeated and, hating himself a little for it, he used what Raven called his sad-puppy-dog-face. The one no one has ever successfully evaded.

Erik's expression softened. "Fine," he capitulated. _Yes_ , Charles thought. Erik wagged a finger. "But you talk to him in public. I don't want you stuck in a room alone with him, okay?"

Pierce called, "Erik, we're ready for you!"

"Coming," Erik called back. "Charles?"

"I won't talk to him alone. Promise."

Erik studied him a moment more, then nodded and headed towards set. Charles made a split decision and pulled his phone out. "Erik!" he called out.

Erik turned around and Charles snapped a picture of him in his elf costume. Erik made a face and Charles laughed, calling out, "For Raven; you look adorable!"

Erik pointed a finger at him, walking backwards. "Delete that, Charles!"

"Never!" With a grin, Charles saved it and then sent the photo to both Raven and Moira.

* * *

Charles leaned against the pillar, hands in his pockets, watching the film crew flit around the front walk of the community center. They'd finished up the Santa scene and had moved outside. He glanced at his watch. Alex should be here within the hour; hopefully Pierce would be done around then. He could understand why Erik liked working this sort of movie—definitely a far more relaxed set than some Charles had been to. Pierce seemed like a good director to work for.

People suddenly scrambled to the sides and Pierce settled into his chair, calling action, eyes on the screens near him.

The front doors to the center suddenly flew open, the woman—Charles really ought to learn her name—came rushing out, her coat flying behind her, unbuttoned. Before the doors could fully close, Erik came rushing out after her, not wearing the elf outfit, unfortunately. That had been a good laugh. Erik called after her, she kept going—

Charles flashed to the moment, weeks ago now, when he and Erik had done that very same thing outside a café. Not quite as dramatic, although Moira would perhaps disagree.

The déjà vu continued as Erik grabbed the woman's arm to make her stop and face him. Still holding her arm, Erik said something—Charles couldn't quite make it out, but from Erik's body language, he could tell it was urgent, possibly some sort of impassioned plea to listen or wait or something similar. The actress shook her head, hair flying, and said something. Erik responded but she apparently didn't like it because she yanked her arm free—how familiar, Charles thought. As she started to leave, Erik turned her around again, put his hands on either side of her face and kissed her.

Charles felt a sudden tightness in his chest, the feeling growing as the actress returned the kiss, her arms wrapping around Erik.

A hand wrapped around his upper arm and he realized he'd taken a step forward. Turning to see who had grabbed him, he felt anger suddenly rise within him.

"Don't ruin the scene," Azazel said quietly.

Charles yanked his arm free and snapped, "Let go of me."

"Sure, just don't walk into Erik's scene."

"Where the hell did you come from?"

Azazel jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Arrived a few minutes ago. How you been, Charles?"

"Like you care. After all, you did ruin my life!" It was an effort to keep his voice low, watching as they reset the scene—apparently going for a different angle. Which meant he'd have to watch Erik kiss her again.

Which totally did not bother him.

At all.

Shit.

Azazel responded calmly, "I did not ruin your life. You're the one who ran away."

"Because you thought that Erik's career was more important than me," Charles shot back.

Azazel eyed him. "I'm _paid_ to think that Erik's career is more important than anyone or anything." He frowned. "Or lack of career, I suppose."

It was Charles' turn to eye him. "What are you talking about?"

Azazel raised an eyebrow. "He hasn't told you? Huh; figured that would have been one of the first things he told you."

"Hasn't told me _what_ , Azazel?" Charles asked tightly.

Azazel's phone lit up and he typed something as he responded, "Erik's quitting after this. Well, he says "retiring from acting" but he's really quitting. That's why he's in this shitty-ass TV flick. I gotta make a call. Nice talking with you, Charles." Azazel walked off, phone already glued to his ear, leaving Charles staring after him, stunned.

Erik was. . . retiring from acting?

What. . . what did that mean, exactly?

And why hadn't Erik told him? Why did Azazel think Charles knew already?

He turned around, feeling a little lightheaded, and watched the scene unfold again. This time, they continued through the kiss, the two staring at each other and talking. _Retiring?_ He caught a glimpse of Erik's face and finally diagnosed the tightness in his chest as jealousy.

"Retiring?" he whispered, somehow hoping that would help it sink in.

Pierce went over to talk to Erik and the woman and Charles took the opportunity to flee inside, heading straight for his office where he fully intended to either call Moira and fall apart or bury himself in work until Alex arrived.


	10. Chapter 10

"Okay," Moira said as she breezed past him into his apartment, "from your indecipherable text earlier, I come fully loaded for whatever you need." He trailed after her as she headed for the kitchen counter where she proceeded to unload items from a grocery bag. "I got a gallon of your favorite ice cream—moose tracks—a couple rom-coms, and two bottles of wine because we will definitely drink at least one full bottle tonight. No excuses. We are going to have a super girly night where you spill your guts, cry, eat ice cream, and then end the night by watching fake romance stories that will never ever happen in reality, whaddaya say?" She put the wine in the fridge as she spoke.

Charles could only smile weakly. "I love you, Moira."

"Of course you do. Now, do you want a bowl or do we just simply eat out of the carton?"

"Carton," he said and grabbed two spoons before heading for the couch.

Once settled, the gallon of ice cream between them, Moira gestured with her spoon. "So, what happened?"

He explained what had happened that afternoon, the two of them eating ice cream the whole while. Everything came out—the argument over decorations, Erik, the almost-kiss, Logan, Azazel, Erik retiring, his jealousy realization.

When he was done talking, Moira was quiet for a minute, clearly thinking things over. Finally, she said, "So, you and Erik had a moment and then you were jealous and now you're panicking. Did I get that right?"

He took a bite of ice cream, letting it melt on his tongue before swallowing. "I guess you could call it that. We almost kissed and I just . . . I don't know where it came from."

"Well," Moira spooned one of the peanut butter cups out of the vanilla, "could it have been just that one moment as opposed to real feelings? I mean, you'd just been arguing with the director and then Erik pops up out of nowhere after having been absent for a few days . . . of course your emotions would be running high."

Charles sucked on his spoon thoughtfully. "I suppose. . ." he trailed off, and then shook his head. "But that wouldn't explain what happened outside."

"Did this Logan guy have anything to do with that?"

He shook his head emphatically. "No. Logan had left by then, with my warning that I would alert Pierce if he tried anything."

"Creep."

He chuckled. "Indeed. Which means I have to find someone else to play Santa for the kids."

"Ask Erik."

"Moira!"

"Oh, right. Right, can't ask him until we figure out what's going on between you two." Moira stuck her spoon in the carton and clapped her hands together. "Okay, I think it's time for the wine. You have a preference?"

He sunk into the cushions. "The biggest glass you can find."

Moira was only gone a few minutes but that was long enough for Charles to send himself back into that emotional tizzy from earlier. "Here. Now, let's determine what exactly you're panicking about. Is it the fact that you almost kissed or the idea that something could come of it because he's retiring?"

Charles thought about it as he sipped at the wine. "Both?"

"Both. Hmmm." She fell silent. "Okay, serious question—are you still in love with Erik?"

"That's not an easy answer," Charles complained. "There's so much to think about—not just our past, but what I'm doing now, the kids, what his plans are, what _my_ plans are—"

"No no no no no no no," Moira interrupted, waving her hands. "No. Simple answer. Kneejerk response. Go: are you in love with Erik?"

"Yes," he breathed softly and felt a bit of the tension ease.

Moira settled back. "Well then. Problem solved."

"What? How does knowing that solve anything? It creates more problems. What am I supposed to do now?"

"You move onto the next thing. Now that you know your feelings," she patted him on the shoulder, "and have actually admitted it to yourself, we can move on to the fact that you might want to get back together with him."

"But how would that even work?" he asked, adding quickly, "Not that I'm saying I want to get back with him. I'm just talking hypothetically here."

"Of course. So, hypothetically, it could work."

"How?"

"Well," Moira set her glass down and returned to the ice cream, "you said his manager said that Erik's retiring, right?" When he nodded, she explained, "So that's it right there! Look—no, let me finish. You and Erik moved out west for his career, yes? Then that same reason split you up. So now that his acting is no longer a factor in either of your lives, he could move in with you, and help you with the center and the boys or whatever. You wouldn't have to uproot your life . . . or theirs."

Charles stared at her in astonishment, his mouth slightly open.

She shrugged, took a bite of ice cream. "Anyway, that's one option. Of course, you can always say no and move on, maybe find someone else to date for more than a couple weeks. If you wanna see if you and Erik can make it work this time, then go for it. No matter what you choose, I'll support you. I just want you to be happy, Charles. Just don't make a decision right now. You're far too emotional."

Finally finding his voice, Charles asked, "How . . . ?" His voice caught as his mind shot ahead, serving up images of a life together—Christmas with Erik, Alex and Scott; vacations; holidays; Erik coaching baseball teams; date nights; college visits; and more. All that he had ever wanted with Erik . . . now suddenly possible again.

"Oh Jesus, I didn't mean to make you cry over _that_. Come here." Moira put the ice cream aside and pulled him close.

"I'm sorry," he sniffled.

"Don't be. This has been a highly emotional couple of months for you." She rubbed his back as he cried.

Running out of tears finally, he pulled back, wiping at his face. Deciding to table the conversation, he said, "So . . . you said you brought rom-coms?"

"Yeah. Do you want _Someone Like You_ or _27 Dresses_?"

Charles laughed wetly. "Those are my options?"

"Hey!" Moira said, indignant. "They are classics. Now, decide while I go get the wine bottles."

In the end, they decided on starting with _27 Dresses_. Fortified with full glasses of wine, three-quarters of a gallon of Moose Tracks ice cream, and comfy couch pillows, Charles and Moira spent the rest of the night with Katherine Heigl, James Marsden, Hugh Jackman, and Ashley Judd.

* * *

The evening after talking with Moira, Charles stood in the middle of his bedroom in his pajamas, a toothbrush dangling from his mouth. The box in the corner commanded his attention, the flaps half open to reveal scattered photos. His past.

And possibly his future, if he but had the courage to move on from being hurt.

Charles drifted across the floor, reaching out to pluck one photo out randomly. He studied it, thinking. It was an image of him decorating their first apartment in L.A. for Christmas, boxes around him, garland draped around his shoulders, laughing—probably at Erik, who was behind the camera. He looked so happy.

Charles made a wistful noise around the toothbrush then dropped the photo and went to rinse. The fact that he was still in love with Erik didn't mean he had to uproot his entire life, Charles reminded himself. He stopped in the doorway to the spare bedroom he was working on turning into a bedroom for the boys. He refused to accept the possibility that he might not be able to adopt them.

He'd found a dresser downstairs—someone had obviously gotten a new one and was tossing it. It was perfectly fine, and they wouldn't have much at first, anyway. Which he planned to fix. The bunk beds were another story. They lay in half-connected parts along the wall where he'd given up in frustration. Damn Ikea and their weird instructions.

Returning to his own bed, he shut off the lamp and stared at the darkened ceiling for a long time, just letting his thoughts drift. Finally, Charles decided that he would talk to Erik about trying and seeing where it goes, making sure to leave it open-ended enough that he could avoid more pain.

He hoped.

* * *

Charles pulled into the parking lot and looked around, confused, at the crowd gathered before the front doors. It was only a little after six, most of them shouldn't be picked up until after seven. He quickly shut off the car and headed for the crowd. It was dark out—it _was_ mid-December, after all—and he had just come from a meeting with social services, putting him one step closer to getting Alex and Scott to stay with him, together. He just had to wait on the judge's approval. Charles reached the edge of the crowd and surprise hit him. These were his kids. But why were they outside instead of in the building, waiting for their parents?

Blinking blue and red lights penetrated his awareness next. Police cars. "Oh no," he breathed, and shoved his way through the children to the front, just in time to see an officer tape off the front doors with police tape. He had visions of someone hurt or dead. "Excuse me, Officer, what's going on?"

The second officer turned to him. "Who are you?"

Charles straightened. "Charles Xavier, I own and run the center. What's going on? Why are you taping the doors shut?"

The second officer sighed and answered, "Someone called in an anonymous tip that something illegal was going on here, broken laws and such, so the place's closed while things are investigated. Here."

Charles took the notice but didn't look at it. "Illegal? We're not doing anything illegal here. Who called it in?"

The first one shrugged. "Call city hall. That's all we know. Right, we're all done here. Sorry, kids." The policemen left and Charles finally looked down at the notice, two words standing out and bringing his world to a crashing halt: **_CLOSED INDEFINITELY_**.

No.

No, this could not be happening. Not now. He swayed as the implications ran through his mind.

"Mr. Xavier, what's going to happen to us?"

The plaintive question drew his attention and he looked up to find some of the children surrounding him, wearing distressed looks. _Oh god, they'd been evicted without him there._ Charles reached out and drew the first young one to him, the child's small arms clinging to him. He made his voice steady and reassuring as he said, "You're going to be fine. We all are. This is just a. . . a misunderstanding. I will find out what happened and we'll all be back here in a few days, no worries."

Charles' gaze swept the group as he talked and some of them actually seemed a little calmer. . . until his eyes landed on Alex Summers. Alex looked stricken, clearly fighting back tears, and his gaze was locked on something low on Charles' body. Curious, Charles looked down and saw that the child he had grabbed was Scott, Alex's baby brother, and he felt a pang in his heart. This was the only time they could see each other and with the center closed. . .

Charles took a deep breath, looked up, met Alex's eyes and said slowly, "Everything is going to be okay." He spoke in general to the group, but he knew Alex was taking his words to heart. "Yes, we're closed right now, but have hope. This is the Christmas season, after all; the season of miracles. I'm not giving up, not at all. And neither should any of you."

Alex nodded faintly and Charles offered a quick smile. "Okay, everyone give me a hug and then I'll call your parents." Alex snagged his brother and held him close as Charles hugged the rest, offering more reassurances until they calmed down.

Charles sat on the steps with the children until the last one was picked up, explaining things to the adults. Most were disappointed, a few were sympathetic, but for the most part everyone was just tired and wanted to get home. Charles called a cab for Alex before Scott's foster parents arrived—hoping to stave off an altercation—and paid for the fare in advance. After the last child left, Charles remained on the steps, staring at the notice for a long time. It started to snow lightly, not really sticking. Eventually, it got too cold to sit there any longer so he got in his car and drove.

Every now and then, his gaze would drift to the paper clutched in his right hand; it was like he couldn't let go of it. There was only one person he wanted to see right then, the only one who wouldn't give him pity or platitudes. So he parked the car in the surface lot, walked in the double doors, up the elevator and knocked on the door.

After a moment, the door opened. "Charles, hey. What's up?"

Charles said quietly, "I . . . I didn't know where else to go."

Erik tugged him inside his hotel room and Charles stood in the middle of the main room, numb, as the door clicked shut behind him. "Charles, what happened? What's wrong?"

In response, Charles simply held out the crumpled notice. Erik took it with a frown, smoothed it out, and read it. Those words flashed in Charles' brain again and he swayed, his eyes burning. Erik quickly put an arm around him, steadying him, and blew out his breath as he finished reading. "Oh, god. I'm so sorry, Charles."

Charles didn't say anything, just rubbed his face. Erik studied him for a second, then set the notice down, and pulled him to the kitchen area. In the back of his mind, Charles noted that it was a really nice hotel suite they'd put Erik up in for the movie. Erik settled him in a tall chair, did something at the stove, then came over and peeled Charles' coat off. Charles let him then dropped his face in his hands, his breath shuddering.

A moment later, something _clink_ ed in front of him and he dropped his hands to see a steaming mug of something on the counter. Erik took his hands, murmured "Your hands are freezing," and wrapped them around the mug. Warmth seeped into them and Charles was startled to realize that he was indeed freezing. "Drink," Erik ordered.

Obediently, Charles lifted the mug to his lips and took a sip. Chamomile tea rolled down his throat, warming him from the inside. He took another sip and another, drinking in the warmth as he drained the mug. Erik refilled it and said, "Okay. Tell me what happened."

So Charles did. "They say I did illegal things, Erik. I _know_ I didn't! I would never. . . " his voice broke and his hands were shaking so he set the mug down. **_CLOSED INDEFINITELY_** rolled through his mind again.

Erik pulled him off the chair and into his arms. Charles' breath shuddered and Erik murmured, "Let it out, Charles. You'll feel better. I'm here. Just let it out."

Thoughts swirled through his mind. All of those children, depending on him, on that center. . . for a safe place, to be wanted. And he'd lost it.

Alex. Scott.

"I failed them," he whispered and the tears fell.

* * *

Charles clung to Erik's shirt and cried. Erik held him tight, wishing he could fix things in an instant. Rubbing Charles' back, Erik occasionally murmured reassurances, including the fact that Charles did not fail the kids; there was no way.

Eventually, Charles stopped crying and he pulled back, out of Erik's hold, wiping at his nose. "Sorry. I didn't mean to. . . " he gestured helplessly at Erik's damp shirt.

Erik shook his head, smiling a little. "You can always come to me, Charles. Come on, time for a distraction." He refilled Charles' mug, filled one of his own and led the way to the couch. Erik flicked on the television and tucked Charles against his side, still trying to warm him. They sat curled up on the couch together, watching Netflix until Charles fell asleep, completely drained.

Erik sat there watching him for a few minutes, enjoying the sight. It was one he'd seen countless times before—watching movies late into the night, until Charles inevitably fell asleep on him—but one he never tired of. Eventually, though, he set their mugs on the coffee table and carefully got to his feet. Lifting Charles, Erik cradled him in his arms as he headed to the bedroom. Using his foot, Erik flicked the covers back and gently laid Charles down on the bed. He tugged Charles' shoes off, set them on the floor, and pulled the covers over him. Bending over, Erik kissed his forehead and whispered, "Good night, my love." Charles snuggled down into the covers and Erik smiled fondly at him before slipping out and shutting the door.

So he'd managed to put at least one chink in Charles' armor if he'd come to Erik seeking comfort. That was good. It gave him hope. But Charles had lost his center . . .

Frowning, Erik hunted for his phone and called Az. There had to be a way to fix this. That center meant everything to Charles and Erik was damned if he'd let this go without a fight. Erik told him do whatever he had to in order to fix this. Az didn't like it, but he agreed.

* * *

Charles stretched, feeling rested, and wondered when his bed had gotten so soft? He remembered his mattress being a lot lumpier than this. He opened his eyes and froze. This wasn't his room. So this wasn't his bed. Then where was he? Swinging his feet onto the floor, Charles noticed he was still wearing his clothes from yesterday. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Charles slowly, cautiously, opened the door and stepped out.

Everything matched; a wonderfully golden-white hue to the place, perfectly clean . . . except the pillow and rumpled blanket on the couch. He tilted his head, trying to figure it out.

"Morning. How do you feel?"

Charles' head snapped around so fast he was surprised he didn't get whiplash. Erik waved at him from the kitchen and the events of the night before came rushing back. The center . . . his good mood faded in an instant as he joined Erik in the kitchen area.

"Hi." Charles slid onto a chair and Erik set a plate in front of him then handed him a fork. Charles took it and looked down. Erik had made him an omelet.

"Eat up; I think it's the same recipe. Haven't made one in a while. Haven't felt like cooking til recently."

Charles cut off a corner and put it in his mouth. His taste buds exploded, bringing back memories of Erik making omelets for him in the morning. He had to swallow past a suddenly tight throat. "I'm sorry," Charles bit out and fled, shutting himself in the bedroom and breathing rapidly. _Okay,_ he told himself silently. _Pull yourself together. You have an opportunity here._ Charles smiled faintly, remember his decision to try. Maybe now was the chance to talk to Erik about it.

When he'd calmed himself down, Charles stepped out to find Erik getting his things together. "Are you leaving?"

Erik whirled around, studying him. "Yeah, I've got to go to set."

"Oh."

"Do you want to come?"

Charles blinked. "What?"

Erik ran a hand through his hair. "Do you, uh, want to come to set? With me. I know you said no before but, I mean . . . it'll help get your mind off. . . things."

Charles bit his lip. It's not like he had anything else to do on this crappy Wednesday morning. Raven and Moira were both at work. He might as well go. Something occurred to him and he looked down. "I'm, uh. . . I'm wearing yesterday's clothes."

"You can borrow one of my shirts, if you want."

"Um, okay. I guess? Unless it'll make you late . . .?"

Erik grinned and dropped his coat on the back of the couch. "At this point, I don't really care."

Charles blinked, a little thrown. "Um. Okay. So, I'll just . . . yeah."

* * *

Erik was playing a game on his phone, lounging on the hotel couch as he waited for Charles. He'd already texted Az a heads-up that Charles was coming and to be nice. He heard the door to the bedroom open and glanced up, lust hitting him full force at the sight of Charles wearing Erik's shirt, tucked into his own jeans.

"Hey." Charles shuffled his feet a little.

"He—" Erik had to clear his throat and try again. "Hey. All set?"

Charles nodded. "Um, do you know what happened to my coat?"

"I hung it in the closet to dry." He stood, shoving his phone in his back jeans pocket. Charles pulled his coat on and they headed out. As they rode the elevator down, Erik couldn't help but think that something was different. Charles was acting differently.

Charles flicked his eyes to Erik at that moment, smiled quickly, then looked away.

Erik frowned thoughtfully. _Hmmm_. . . He needed to experiment.

On the lobby floor, Erik gestured for Charles to exit first then hurried to catch up, making sure their hands brushed as they walked.

Charles didn't flinch or pull away.

Interesting.

"So," Charles started, "how are we getting to set?"

"Az is picking us up."

"He knows I'm coming?" Erik nodded. Charles said warily, "And he's okay with that?"

"I talked with him. He'll play nice."

Charles nodded as they headed outside. A black SUV was waiting for them, Azazel leaning against the side, on his phone. He looked up as they approached. "Finally. Look, we're going to be late. Get in. Oh, and hello, Charles." Az climbed into the passenger seat.

Erik rolled his eyes and pulled the door open for Charles. So much for being nice, he thought. Charles caught his eye and murmured, "Yeah, he's being super nice."

Erik chuckled, climbing in after him. The driver pulled away from the curb and Erik leaned over to say softly, "Hey, it's going to be okay."

Charles offered a wan smile. "I hope so. I just . . .wish I knew more."

"Tell me again what the police said."

"They just said to call city hall. I won't get anything from them, not for a few days." Charles leaned his head against the window, looking despondent. "My center's not exactly a priority to councilmen."

He reached over and gave Charles' hand a squeeze. "Aren't you the one who was always telling me to have hope? Call them. A lot. Bug them until they can't help but give you an answer."

Charles glanced over at him, laughed a little and squeezed back. "You actually _did_ listen to me back then."

Erik grinned. "I always listen to you. I love listening to you."

Charles blushed.

Azazel interrupted, "Erik, any interest in going to Japan for the premiere?"

Charles pulled his hand free and Erik gritted his teeth, reaching for his hand again. "Not really, no."

Az twisted around, an eyebrow raised. "Really? I thought you loved going to Japan?"

Erik kept his gaze fixed on Charles, who was looking out the window. "Not really interested in spending the holidays on the other side of the world. Besides, I was just over there last year." Subtext—Charles, I'm not leaving you; not right now. Please hear me so I don't have to say it out loud.

Az huffed and Erik knew they'd be talking about this again, but he had other things on his mind. "Az, about that thing I asked you to do last night . . . ?"

"Yeah, yeah," Az turned back around. "I'm working on it. We're playing phone tag at the moment."

After a few minutes of driving in silence, Charles said, "So, I, um. . . I heard something kind of interesting . . . the other day."

"Oh? What was it?"

Charles shrugged and Erik frowned. He was trying to be casual and failing, as Charles usually did. "I, um, I heard that you were, uh, retiring?"

Erik glared at the back of Azazel's seat. "Oh, you did, did you? And who told you that?"

"Is it true?" Charles asked, sidestepping the question.

Erik sighed heavily. "Yes. It's true."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't want you to feel like you were the reason. And don't say you wouldn't feel that way; I know you do already."

". . . am I?" His voice was quiet.

"No. _God_ , no, Charles." Charles shot him a look and he backtracked. "Okay, maybe a little. But it's a good thing, trust me." When he saw that Charles still didn't believe him, Erik continued, "Look, you remember what I told you, about what happened after I made it big? I need to remember who I am without all that. Maybe, eventually, I might go back, but for now I need this time off. Time I can spend with those I love," he added pointedly and was rewarded by Charles' smile.

"Erik, there's something I—" Charles started but was cut off by the driver announcing that they'd arrived at set.

They piled out, Az got Charles a visitor badge to wear on set, then Erik and Charles headed for the makeup trailer. Curious, Erik asked, "Charles, what was that you wanted to say earlier?"

He shook his head. "It's okay. It can wait."

Erik studied him. "You sure?"

Charles smiled up at him. "I'm sure. Go on; I'll find somewhere out of the way."

What Charles wanted to tell him, would it have anything to do with why Charles was letting him close? It felt like the wall Charles kept throwing between them was coming down. Wondering if this meant he had a shot, Erik bent down and kissed Charles' cheek. "You're never in the way. I'll find you when I get a break, okay?"

Now bright red, Charles only nodded and stepped back.

* * *

As Erik stepped into the trailer, Charles took a steadying breath and pressed his hands to his cheeks, feeling the heat. He wandered over to craft services, hoping to find a seat somewhere and watch. Erik did find him during breaks between filming and set changes but Charles really did not want to have this conversation in full view of everyone on the crew; especially Azazel.

So he'd have to wait a little while to talk to Erik about trying a relationship. That was fine. More than fine, actually, since he had no idea how to even start the conversation. His mouth had kind of jumped ahead of his brain in the car so it was a good thing they'd gotten here when they did. It did seem like Erik had somehow known what he was going to say, though. . .

Then again, Erik always did know him better than anyone except Raven.

He'd talk to Erik another time.


	11. Chapter 11

"Ugh, this is impossible!"

Charles scowled at the puzzle in front of him then at the directions on the floor next to him. So much for his hope that he could put bunk beds together on his own. It really shouldn't be this difficult to fit four boards into one piece! Four pieces should slot together with little trouble, right? So why couldn't he do it?

He reached for the hammer, intending to give it another go before giving up for the day. Instead, his phone rang and he picked that up instead. "Hello?"

"Charles? It's Melanie. From the juvenile detention center?"

Charles froze. Why was she calling? It had to be good news, he hoped. "Melanie, hi. Is everything okay? Is Alex all right?"

She quickly said, "Alex is fine. Missing you and Scott, but otherwise fine." A pause. "Actually, that's why I'm calling. Do you have time to come by my office this afternoon?"

A quick look at his watch informed him it was nearly two fifteen. "Um. . . I can be there in about forty-five minutes, will that work?"

"Perfect. Thanks, Charles. I'll see you soon."

They hung up and Charles stared at the screen—an image of Scott and Alex together, unaware that he took the picture. Melanie wanted to see him in her office. There was only one reason she would want that. Did she want to give him the bad news in person? Was she worried about his reaction?

Oh god, Alex. . .

"Get a grip," he muttered to himself. There's no reason to panic. She could just as easily want to give him good news.

Although, the way his life had been going this week, it was almost a guarantee that it would be bad news.

* * *

Melanie was waiting for him by the time he reached her office, a big smile on her face. "Good, you're here. Iris, can you get Alex?"

Charles slowly took a seat. "Is everything all right, Melanie? What's going on?"

She smiled reassuringly at him. "Let's just wait for Alex, so I don't have to say it twice."

His brows furrowed, but he waited, fingers tapping his leg. Then the door opened again and in walked Alex, shooting a wary glance between the adults.

"Hey, what's going on?" Alex asked.

Charles stood and pulled him into a quick hug then turned to Melanie. "He's here. Now tell me, what is this all about?"

An earsplitting grin crossed Melanie's face as she leaned against the edge of her desk. "Now, it's not official quite yet; not until the paperwork is filed in a couple days but I just couldn't wait to tell you." She paused, looking between them. Charles held his breath, expecting the worst. "The judge signed the papers. Alex, you and Scott are officially Xaviers now!"

The two of them stared at her in disbelief. "What?" Charles breathed, his grip on Alex's shoulder tightening. "They're . . . they're my kids, now?"

"They are indeed, Charles." Melanie looked unbelievably happy for them.

Charles let out a little laugh and ran a hand through his hair. Then he pulled Alex tight against him feeling the teen hug him back, shoulders shaking. They were his. He couldn't believe it. This was the best news he could have ever received.

They finally pulled apart and Alex asked, "Scott. Does he know?"

Melanie's smile faded slightly. "Not yet. I just got the news myself a couple hours ago."

Smiling through the sting of happy tears, Charles asked, "When can they move in with me?"

"Not until the paperwork's been filed, unfortunately. Which should be either Monday or Tuesday. By then Scott should be ready to go as well." She smiled again. "Go on, spend some time together. Let the news sink in."

Charles and Alex left the office and started down a hallway, no clear location in mind. After a few minutes, Charles asked, "Do you need any help gathering your belongings?"

Alex shrugged. "No, I don't have a lot. Scotty's probably got way more, though."

"That's going to change," Charles responded firmly. "You two will have more things than you'll know what to do with when I'm done with you."

Alex scrubbed his eyes, muttered, "Thanks."

They walked the halls for a while, eventually making their way to the front doors. Alex abruptly asked, "So what's up with you and Erik?"

Charles blinked. Where in the world had that come from? "What do you mean?" he sidestepped.

"Well, Mark and I were talking last time I was at the center—before it got closed—and turns out we've both noticed how often Erik came by and, like, the way he looks at you. . . I mean, even Warren can see it and he's a dick. So we got to wondering if there's something going on."

Flabbergasted, Charles had no idea how to respond to that. "I'm glad that you and Warren have figured out how to get along."

Alex scoffed. "Yeah, now that I don't want to punch him in the face all the time, he's not so bad. But then, I have Erik to thank for the anger management tips."

Charles looked at him, startled by the comment. "Anger management tips?"

Alex shrugged. "Yeah, he taught me how to box. But now you're changing the subject. Erik told me you two had a pretty bad breakup a while back that, like, totally killed him, but now he wants to fix things. Do you want to get back with him? Is that what's happening?"

Charles' mouth opened and closed several times before he finally answered, "It's complicated." His mind drifted—what did Alex mean by the way Erik looked at him? And then he remembered his conversation with Moira and his decision. But of course he hadn't talked to Erik yet. The one opportunity he'd had, he'd chickened out.

" _Dad!_ "

He started, looking at Alex in surprise. "What?" The tone indicated Alex had tried to get his attention several times. Then what the teen said registered and Charles smiled. "You called me dad."

Alex turned red and ducked his head, muttering, "Well that's what you are now, right?"

Charles tugged him close, pressed a kiss to his temple. "That I am, my boy; that I am."

A sign on the wall let him know they were nearing the doors. "About your earlier question. . ." Alex looked up at him, curiosity in his eyes. Charles said, "In all honesty, I am still in love with Erik. And I would like to try getting back together with him but I have no idea how it would work. I can't leave my life here, can't uproot you and Scott now that you have friends. Besides, he still lives in Hollywood. But yes, Alex, to answer your question, if it could work, I would like to get back together with Erik."

They rounded the corner as Charles said that last sentence and came face to face with the subject of the conversation. Charles paled, said in surprise, "Erik! Hi." How much had he heard? He wasn't ready for this conversation, hadn't rehearsed anything.

Erik's mouth was open a little, his gaze riveted to Charles.

Alex said, "Hey, man, you're early."

Charles half-turned toward the teen, his eyes never leaving Erik, and frantically tried to figure out what to do because yes he wanted to talk to Erik about this. . . . and Erik is _right there_ and how much did he hear? Wait, was Alex expecting Erik to come by?

Erik finally said, "Yeah, we finished the shoot earlier than expected so I figured I'd just swing by." A pause. "Hi, Charles. I . . . how are you?"

Charles swallowed. Okaaaay. . . so Erik wasn't going to bring it up. Should he? His voice was a little higher as he replied, "Fine. I, uh, I just um . . . what . . . are you doing here?"

Alex answered, "He's been teaching me boxing, remember? Since the center closed, he's been coming here."

Right. He had said that. And it made sense because Erik was a boxer in college—an image popped into his head then of stumbling upon a sweaty Erik in nothing but shorts practicing in their shared dorm room. Oh shit, okay. Time to leave, now. Talk later, leave now before doing something that would scar Alex.

Like seeing if Erik still had those abs under his shirt.

Taking a deep breath, Charles yanked his gaze away and hugged Alex tight. "I'll come by tomorrow and we'll work out logistics, yes?" he said softly against the teen's ear.

Alex nodded against his shoulder and whispered, "I'm glad this happened." Charles closed his eyes. "Charles?" Alex pulled back. "I've lost a lot of people in my life so trust me—don't let him go again. You'll regret it for the rest of your life."

Charles shot a quick look at Erik, who was watching them, and nodded. "Thanks for the advice. Oh, and Alex, what Melanie told us? Keep it our secret until Monday." He meant don't tell Erik.

Alex frowned, looking between them. "Okay. If you're sure."

Charles nodded. "Well, I have to get going. Have fun, you two." He started for the door, sidestepping past Erik, who had yet to look away from him.

Erik caught his hand as they drew even and asked quietly, "Are you okay?"

He nodded quickly, his heart pounding. How much had Erik heard? "Yeah," he said lightly. "Just a lot of stuff happening all at once."

Erik studied him. "Is it okay that I'm here with Alex?"

"Absolutely. You're clearly helping him and I can see that he loves spending time with you."

"Okay, good. I thought I'd overstepped for a minute there."

Charles smiled. "Not at all." He pulled his hand free and started for the door again but then something occurred to him and he turned back, calling Erik's name. When the actor turned back, Charles said, "Can I see your phone?"

Confused, Erik nevertheless handed his phone over. Charles quickly entered his number into it before he could change his mind. Handing it back with a half-shrug, he explained, "I changed my number years ago."

"Ah. Well, thanks. I'll call you later, then?"

Charles nodded and hurried out, hearing Erik ask Alex if everything was okay. He didn't stay to hear Alex's answer, slipping into his car where he dropped his head onto the steering wheel and berated himself for once again acting like a coward. Why didn't he say something? Or let Erik say something? That was the perfect opportunity! And he'd deliberately avoided it, again. Ugh, what was wrong with him? It's not like he enjoyed living with a broken heart, forever in love with someone he'd thought didn't love him.

Only it turned out that that someone did indeed still love him. It should not be this difficult to just tell Erik to his face that he wanted to try again.

Next time.

Next time, he would say something. Because, after all, third time's the charm, right?

* * *

Humming Christmas tunes under his breath, Charles stepped into his apartment, setting down the bags full of presents for the boys. His coat was half off when his cell phone rang. Maneuvering awkwardly, he answered without checking caller ID. "Hello?"

"Hey, Charles. How are you doing?"

"Erik, hi. I'm good. What's up, aren't you filming tonight?"

"They called it an early night. So, listen, are you busy? Got plans tonight?"

Charles finally managed to get out of his coat. "Not really, no. Why?"

Sounding hesitant over the phone line, Erik said, "I was thinking I could come over and we could hang out? I can grab some takeout and we could talk or watch a movie or something."

Charles thought it over. This could be his chance.

"Charles? You still there?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm here. Um, sounds good. I'll text you my address."

Erik came by with Chinese and they ate on the couch in awkward silence until finally Charles decided to break it. "I have to tell you something."

Erik eyed him cautiously. "Okay. . ."

Charles bit his lip, lowered his chopsticks into the container, and shifted to face Erik. "I have to tell someone before I burst." He paused. "The adoption's official!"

Erik stared at him for a moment then grinned. "Charles! That's fantastic news! When did you find out? When do they move in?"

"That day we ran into each other at the juvie center, Alex and I had just come from Melanie's office where she told us that unofficially the judge had approved. I just didn't want to say anything right then because she said the paperwork wouldn't be filed until today." Their gazes locked and Charles felt his heart skip. "Anyway, Alex can move in anytime now but she's been having a little trouble reaching Scott. I just can't wait to have them both here."

He was grinning so wide his cheeks hurt, and Erik looked just as happy. Then Erik leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, igniting a fiery blush in Charles. "That is amazing, Charles. Congratulations."

Charles ducked his head, fiddled with his chopsticks. "Would, uh, would you mind helping me with the bunk beds? I can't seem to get them to fit together and you were always better at that sort of thing, anyway," his voice trailing off at the end.  
"Of course. Where are they?"

Abandoning the remains of their takeout, Charles led Erik to the newly decorated bedroom and the furniture pieces. Erik took a look at the partly put together corners, knelt down and tugged at them. Picked up a few random pieces. The bag of screws and nails. Flipped through the instruction booklet. "Do you have a hammer?"

He thought about it. "Umm . . . oh yeah. In my bedroom. I can go—"

Erik stood up. "I'll get it. Be right back." How about that, he thought. First time in Charles' new apartment and he quickly got a chance to see his bedroom.

It was pretty much what he'd expected, a typical bedroom. Except the box and the hammer on the floor next to it. Shrugging, Erik bent down to pick up the tool and his gaze slid to the open box and its contents.

Was that . . . ?

Erik picked up a photo and stared at it. That was the night he'd proposed. He could remember it perfectly, down to the tears in Charles' eyes as Erik slid the ring onto his finger. Erik walked across the hall to find Charles sitting on the floor amid furniture pieces and cleared his throat. When Charles looked up, an eyebrow raised in question, Erik turned the photo to face him.

Charles went red. "Ah."

Erik sat next to him. "I didn't know that had been taken."

Charles took it, stared down at it. "Yeah, Raven took it."

"Do you remember that night?"

"Yes," Charles said softly, his grip on the photo causing it to wrinkle a little.

Erik hesitated but he had to ask. "Is it a good memory?"

Charles stared at him, his blue eyes wide in surprise. "Erik . . . that is one of my favorite memories, no matter what happened to us afterwards. It was such a wonderful night already, and then you asked me to marry you—I remember thinking it couldn't get better than that."

"Me, too." They stared at each other, something shifting between them. What he wouldn't give to be able to cross those few inches and feel Charles' lips against his own. He had the funny feeling that Charles might not stop him . . .

Erik finally cleared his throat and reached for the instructions. "I still can't believe you bought this from IKEA," he teased.

Charles chuckled and the moment was broken. "Yes, my first and last time, I believe."

They managed to work together to get the beds set up and then they moved to Charles' bedroom to go through some more photos of years ago. Erik shifted, his leg falling asleep, and caught sight of the time. Shit, it was nearly ten. "Wow, it's late. I have to go, get some sleep before call time tomorrow."

Charles started gathering everything to put away then followed Erik to the living room where he pulled his coat on. Erik stood in the hall, Charles in the doorway with one hand on the doorknob. Awkwardness stretched between them. Erik leaned in to kiss Charles on the cheek but Charles turned his head and their mouths met for a brief moment.

He breathed in sharply as he pulled back. Opened his mouth to say . . . what?

Charles blurted out, "I want to try!"

Erik blinked, trying to wrap his head around what had just happened. "Want to try what?"

Charles bit his lip. Waved a hand vaguely between them. "Us. I . . . I want to try . . . us. If—if that's okay with you."

Feeling a mixture of relief and hope, Erik replied, "I've waited so long to hear you say that, Charles."

Charles smiled a little. Erik leaned back in, intending a real kiss this time, but they were interrupted by Charles' cell phone ringing. They both looked over Charles' shoulder at where it sat on the kitchen counter.

"I should get that." Reluctance colored his voice.

Erik nodded, disappointed. "Good night, then, Charles."

A faint smile. "Good night, Erik."

Erik took one step out the door then changed his mind and turned around. Charles hadn't moved. Erik walked back to him, cupped Charles' face with his hands and kissed him. After his initial surprise, Charles returned it.

Pulling back, Erik smiled down at him. The phone continued to ring in the background. Charles' gaze sparkled up at him and he smiled back.

"Now I'm going." Erik forced himself to back out into the hall, a grin creasing his face as he strolled towards the elevators. _Finally._


	12. Chapter 12

Charles walked the streets of New York after dinner, seeing but not seeing the lights and the people, the music playing in the background. He wasn't quite sure where he was going; he just knew he needed to get out of his apartment. Five days until Christmas. The community center had been closed for over a week. It still felt like something was missing. Especially with the most recent news from Emma.

"Hey, you can't be here."

Startled, Charles looked around. He was at Central Park and a uniformed officer was holding a hand out to block his way. It looked like a film crew up ahead. "Sorry. What are they filming?"

"Some Christmas movie. Move along now."

"Christmas movie?" Charles leaned around the officer. _It couldn't be. That's too much of a coincidence._ "I know the star."

"Sure you do." Skepticism colored the officer's voice. "Come on; don't make get physical."

"No, I'm serious," Charles insisted. That had to be Erik's movie. "Find Erik Lensherr. Or Azazel Flemyng. My name's Charles Xavier; they'll vouch for me."

The officer scowled at him for a minute then, seeing that Charles wasn't leaving, spoke into his radio. Charles waited, trying to catch a glimpse of Erik or Azazel. After a couple minutes, the radio squawked something unintelligible but the officer seemed to relax. Shortly after that, someone detached from the film crew and headed over.

Azazel called out, "Let him in! He's good!"

The officer shrugged and stepped aside. "Guess you got lucky."

"Thank you," Charles said quickly and hurried over to Azazel.

Az threw an arm around his shoulder and leaned over to murmur in his ear, "What in the world are you doing here?"

Charles replied, "I sort of stumbled upon it. Erik won't mind, will he?"

Az chuckled. "Charles, your paramour will not mind in the slightest if you watch him."

Charles blushed lightly and hoped it just looked like he was cold. "We're not, you know, that. I mean, maybe something, but not, you know. . ."

"Sure." Az winked as he deposited Charles next to a cameraman. "Hey, Jack, this is Charles. He's Erik's, so no touchy, 'kay?"

 _Okay, not gonna be able to pass that off as being cold_ , Charles thought as he felt flames race across his cheeks. Charles smiled awkwardly at the other man as Azazel vanished. "I'm, I'm not. . . Erik's. We're just . . . we're just. . . ." He trailed off, unsure quite what they were. Sort of dating?

"Whatever." Jack nodded. "Just keep quiet and don't move, alright?"

Charles nodded. That, he could do.

A man shouted, "All quiet on set! Cameras, ready! Actors, on your marks. One. Two. Three. Aaaand. . . . . . ACTION!"

Charles watched as a woman—very beautiful, dark hair, wearing a red winter coat with matching red-and-white striped scarf—walked into frame from his right, two kids flanking her: one boy around Scott's age and the other a teenaged girl. He recognized the woman from the filming at his center, but couldn't remember her name. Jack swung his camera to Charles' left, and he turned slightly to see Erik walk into frame, looking down at his cell phone. He wore a black coat and dress pants, blowing on his hands as he walked. He alternated hands due to holding the phone. Charles smiled. That wasn't in the script, he was sure. That seemed like something Erik would just throw in.

The boy darted forward, walking backwards, and asked, "Can we get a Christmas tree tonight, Mom?"

The woman smiled at him. "Not tonight, bud. How about we go tomorrow after school, hmm?"

He pouted. "Fine."

Turning, he bumped right into Erik, who stumbled back a few steps, his phone dropping to the ground. Erik caught his balance and snapped, "Watch where you're going."

"Hey, now," the woman stepped forward, tucking the boy behind her. "There's no need to be rude." She picked up Erik's phone and handed it to him. "You weren't exactly paying attention, either, so don't blame my son."

Erik took the phone from her and it was like they simply stopped for a second. Charles tilted his head a little. Now, granted, it had been a while since he'd seen Erik do a romance movie but that looked a lot like how Erik used to look at him. And had looked at him a couple nights ago. Swallowing against a suddenly tight throat, Charles watched Erik take his phone back and introduce himself as Steve Barnes, the woman then introduced herself as Jessica Hunter, and the kids as Jake and Anne. Jake apologized for bumping into Erik and Erik apologized for snapping. The two groups then went on their separate ways, but Erik glanced back at the little family once before walking out of frame.

"CUT!"

Charles jumped. Damn it, he'd forgotten how much yelling there was on a film set. The tight feeling in his throat had spread to his chest and he quickly excused himself to the cameraman, walking away. He wondered if he could catch Erik before they started up again.

Erik was off to the right, where the woman and kids had started from, and he was talking to some guy. Charles tried to catch his eye, even waving a little. Nothing. Just as he was about to give up, Erik suddenly started toward him, a smile lighting his face.

"Charles, what are you doing here? How long have you been here?" Erik sounded delighted.

Charles found himself blushing. He shrugged. "Not that long. Az rescued me from the cop guarding the street and I just saw this last scene."

Erik raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? What'd you think? Derek wants to do it again."

Charles laughed a little. "Well, I will say that it's weird to hear you say your name's Steve. It doesn't fit you."

Erik laughed in return. "Yeah, I've had a lot of names over the years, but never Steve."

"Yeah, no matter who you were at work, I could always count on you to be my Erik at home." Charles blinked. Shit, had he really said that out loud? Judging by the suddenly tender expression on Erik's face, he had, indeed. He shifted uncomfortably.

Erik said abruptly, "You wanna take a walk? It'll be a few minutes before they call me back and I'm starting to freeze in these dress clothes."

"Sure."

Charles fell into step beside Erik as he started down the sidewalk, snow starting to fall lightly as they walked.

* * *

Erik studied Charles out of the corner of his eye as they strolled through the park. After the events of a couple nights ago, he hadn't seen or talked to Charles since and was a little uncertain as to their status. What if it was just the moment or the lateness of the night that led to the kiss? Erik made a mental note to thank Az for letting Charles through. "You're awfully quiet. How are you doing?"

Charles shrugged, his hands in his coat pockets. "The girls say I'm moping."

That sounded like something Moira and Raven would say. But still. . . "Are you?"

"No." He made a face and his shoulders slumped. "Maybe. I don't know. A little, I guess." Charles sighed heavily. "That center meant a lot to me. I felt like I'd actually done something good with the money my parents left me, you know? I felt like I was actually helping those kids and now it's just . . . gone. I feel like something's missing, even with the good news about Scott and Alex. But I just, I don't know; maybe I am moping."

"You have every right to mope, Charles. You put a lot into that place."

Charles stopped in front of a bench and shrugged. "And for what? To be closed for no reason? What was the point, then?"

Erik faced him. "The point was those kids, Charles. I've seen them and they adore you. You've done something for them that no one else in their lives has—you gave them hope. You care about what happens to them. If you don't believe that, then just look at what you've done for Scott and Alex. What you're still doing for them. You _adopted_ them, for god's sakes, Charles. If that's. . . "

Charles was staring up at him, his blue eyes wide with astonishment. Erik's voice trailed off as Charles' eyes drew him in, his cheeks pink with cold and maybe something else. Snow landed in his hair and Erik reached up to brush it off.

Erik froze as he realized what he'd just done without thinking. It had just seemed so natural to do it. Snow fell around them, enclosing them in a bubble where time ceased to exist for a moment. His hand lingered on Charles' cheek and Charles shifted forward a half-step, his breath catching. "You were saying?" he asked, breathless and soft.

He was saying . . . what had he been saying? It probably didn't matter. Erik found himself leaning in, Charles stretching up to meet him. Eyes closed, their mouths brushed together in the lightest of kisses but before either could deepen it, a shrill _ring_ interrupted them.

Charles jerked back, fumbling in his jeans for his phone.

"LENSHERR!"

Frustrated, Erik glanced over to see one of the crewmembers waving at him. He held a hand up.

"Alex? What is it?"

"WE NEED YOU ON SET!"

Erik yelled, "JUST A MINUTE! Charles, what's going on?"

Charles flapped a hand at him, reaching up to plug his free ear to hear better. "Alex, are you okay? What happened?" He started walking back down the sidewalk and Erik hurried after him.

"Charles?"

Charles lowered the phone to his shoulder and glanced over, his expression worried. "Alex is at the police station; he says he's been arrested. I'm sorry; I have to go." Accelerating into a jog, Charles said into the phone, "I'm on my way, Alex. I'll be there soon."

Erik came to a stop and thought quickly. They needed him on set. He didn't _need_ this film; he was retiring, anyway. Charles was worried; Alex was in trouble. Charles had walked here; he'd need to hail a cab. Erik had been driven. Erik had a car. Erik frantically searched for Az, finally finding him off to the side. "Give me your car keys."

Az cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

Erik's voice hardened. "I need your car keys, Az. Now."

"You have work to do."

"Not here, I don't." He held out a hand.

Az stared at him as if he'd suddenly grown two heads. "Please don't tell me you and your little fuck buddy are going somewhere private."

" _Az_ ," Erik growled. Every second he wasted here, Charles was getting further away. He'd argue terminology later. "Keys. Now."

Azazel sighed dramatically, but fished out his keys and dropped them into Erik's waiting palm. "And what do I tell the director?"

"Family emergency. I'll be back later. Thanks." Erik didn't wait for his response, taking off running down the sidewalk, the falling snow making it seem like time was stopping for him.

He exited the park and looked everywhere, spotting Charles in the curb lane, waving a hand for a taxi. "Charles!" he shouted, jogging over.

Charles whirled. "Erik?" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

Erik dangled the keychain. "Come on. I'll drive; you navigate."

Relief and gratitude flooded Charles' expression as they headed to Erik's town car and climbed in. "Buckle up," Erik ordered, and peeled out from the curb, Charles grabbing the door handle in surprise.

* * *

Charles shoved open the door to the precinct, wondering what Alex could possibly have done to get in trouble with the police. Stopping at the main desk, he said, "Excuse me."

The officer manning the desk looked up. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Alex Summers. He was brought in maybe half an hour ago?" Erik stood next to him, a silent supporter.

The officer—Stone, from her name badge—asked, "And you would be?"

"Charles Xavier, his father." Despite everything, it gave him a slight thrill to be able to say that he was Alex's father. Erik's hand gripped his and squeezed. Charles realized then that he was tapping his foot against the floor and forced it to still. "He called me. Please, I need to see him."

"All right, hang on. Have a seat." Officer Stone waved at the row of plastic chairs along the wall then stepped through a side door into the main precinct area.

They sat but after a minute, Charles jumped back up and started pacing.

"Relax, Charles," Erik said. "You're not going to help Alex if you're emotional."

Charles shot him a reproving look. "You try to relax when someone you care about is in trouble and you don't know why."

"I am." Erik snagged his hand as he passed by. "Hey, come on. I'm worried about the kid, too."

Charles took a shaky breath. Then he dropped into the seat next to Erik and mumbled, "My life is falling apart." His head fell back against the wall.

"What does that mean?"

"It means my center's gone, I may not be teaching at the university much longer and now, just as I finally adopt two boys who desperately need a home, one of them is in trouble with the police."

Erik squeezed his hand again. "You will get your center back, Charles."

Charles scoffed. "Your false hope is not helping, Erik."

"You will, trust me," Erik repeated earnestly. "Things will work out with the kids, too. As for the university, what do you mean, you may not be teaching much longer?"

Charles sighed. "I got an email from Emma yesterday. She's the head of the science department. Or, she was. Anyway, it turns out there has been a change in leadership and apparently there's no room for me in the adjunct professor role next semester. So there goes that."

"Sorry to hear that."

Charles shrugged. "Maybe it just wasn't meant to be."

Erik faced him. "The point was those kids, Charles. I've seen them and they adore you. You've done something for them that no one else in their lives has—you gave them hope. You care about what happens to them. If you don't believe that, then just look at what you've done for Scott and Alex. What you're still doing for them. You _adopted_ them, for god's sakes, Charles. If that's. . . "

Charles was staring up at him, his blue eyes wide with astonishment. Erik's voice trailed off as Charles' eyes drew him in, his cheeks pink with cold and maybe something else. Snow landed in his hair and Erik reached up to brush it off.

Erik froze as he realized what he'd just done without thinking. It had just seemed so natural to do it. Snow fell around them, enclosing them in a bubble where time ceased to exist for a moment. His hand lingered on Charles' cheek and Charles shifted forward a half-step, his breath catching. "You were saying?" he asked, breathless and soft.

He was saying . . . what had he been saying? It probably didn't matter. Erik found himself leaning in, Charles stretching up to meet him. Eyes closed, their mouths brushed together in the lightest of kisses but before either could deepen it, a shrill _ring_ interrupted them.

Charles jerked back, fumbling in his jeans for his phone.

"LENSHERR!"

Frustrated, Erik glanced over to see one of the crewmembers waving at him. He held a hand up.

"Alex? What is it?"

"WE NEED YOU ON SET!"

Erik yelled, "JUST A MINUTE! Charles, what's going on?"

Charles flapped a hand at him, reaching up to plug his free ear to hear better. "Alex, are you okay? What happened?" He started walking back down the sidewalk and Erik hurried after him.

"Charles?"

Charles lowered the phone to his shoulder and glanced over, his expression worried. "Alex is at the police station; he says he's been arrested. I'm sorry; I have to go." Accelerating into a jog, Charles said into the phone, "I'm on my way, Alex. I'll be there soon."

Erik came to a stop and thought quickly. They needed him on set. He didn't _need_ this film; he was retiring, anyway. Charles was worried; Alex was in trouble. Charles had walked here; he'd need to hail a cab. Erik had been driven. Erik had a car. Erik frantically searched for Az, finally finding him off to the side. "Give me your car keys."

Az cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

Erik's voice hardened. "I need your car keys, Az. Now."

"You have work to do."

"Not here, I don't." He held out a hand.

Az stared at him as if he'd suddenly grown two heads. "Please don't tell me you and your little fuck buddy are going somewhere private."

" _Az_ ," Erik growled. Every second he wasted here, Charles was getting further away. He'd argue terminology later. "Keys. Now."

Azazel sighed dramatically, but fished out his keys and dropped them into Erik's waiting palm. "And what do I tell the director?"

"Family emergency. I'll be back later. Thanks." Erik didn't wait for his response, taking off running down the sidewalk, the falling snow making it seem like time was stopping for him.

He exited the park and looked everywhere, spotting Charles in the curb lane, waving a hand for a taxi. "Charles!" he shouted, jogging over.

Charles whirled. "Erik?" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

Erik dangled the keychain. "Come on. I'll drive; you navigate."

Relief and gratitude flooded Charles' expression as they headed to Erik's town car and climbed in. "Buckle up," Erik ordered, and peeled out from the curb, Charles grabbing the door handle in surprise.

* * *

Charles shoved open the door to the precinct, wondering what Alex could possibly have done to get in trouble with the police. Stopping at the main desk, he said, "Excuse me."

The officer manning the desk looked up. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Alex Summers. He was brought in maybe half an hour ago?" Erik stood next to him, a silent supporter.

The officer—Stone, from her name badge—asked, "And you would be?"

"Charles Xavier, his father." Despite everything, it gave him a slight thrill to be able to say that he was Alex's father. Erik's hand gripped his and squeezed. Charles realized then that he was tapping his foot against the floor and forced it to still. "He called me. Please, I need to see him."

"All right, hang on. Have a seat." Officer Stone waved at the row of plastic chairs along the wall then stepped through a side door into the main precinct area.

They sat but after a minute, Charles jumped back up and started pacing.

"Relax, Charles," Erik said. "You're not going to help Alex if you're emotional."

Charles shot him a reproving look. "You try to relax when someone you care about is in trouble and you don't know why."

"I am." Erik snagged his hand as he passed by. "Hey, come on. I'm worried about the kid, too."

Charles took a shaky breath. Then he dropped into the seat next to Erik and mumbled, "My life is falling apart." His head fell back against the wall.

"What does that mean?"

"It means my center's gone, I may not be teaching at the university much longer and now, just as I finally adopt two boys who desperately need a home, one of them is in trouble with the police."

Erik squeezed his hand again. "You will get your center back, Charles."

Charles scoffed. "Your false hope is not helping, Erik."

"You will, trust me," Erik repeated earnestly. "Things will work out with the kids, too. As for the university, what do you mean, you may not be teaching much longer?"

Charles sighed. "I got an email from Emma yesterday. She's the head of the science department. Or, she was. Anyway, it turns out there has been a change in leadership and apparently there's no room for me in the adjunct professor role next semester. So there goes that."

"Sorry to hear that."

Charles shrugged. "Maybe it just wasn't meant to be."

"Charles Xavier?" Officer Stone called.

He jumped to his feet. "Yes?"

She waved. "Come on back. I'll take you to him."

"Thank you." Charles hurried after her, aware of Erik following right behind.

* * *

The cop led them through the bullpen, desks and people all over the place, to a door that hopefully wasn't an interrogation room. She left them there and Charles pulled the door open, stepping inside only to stop abruptly. Erik shut the door behind them. Charles focused on Alex, vaguely noting the couches and table. Not an interrogation room, then. Good.

Alex sat on one of the couches, his legs pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around them as he buried his face against his knees.

"Alex," Charles said gently.

The boy looked up, lowering his feet to the floor. "Charles. Erik." Surprise colored his voice.

Charles stepped forward. "You're okay." Statement, not a question. And more to himself than the boy.

"I. . ." Alex glanced between them. "Yeah. . . I, um. . . I wasn't sure you'd actually come."

"We're a family now, Alex," Charles informed Alex as he moved to stand in front of him, carefully not touching him. The expression on the boy's face was like when he first met Alex. Boundaries. Comfort had to be on Alex's terms. After all those years working at the center, he'd picked up a few things. "Of course I came."

Alex glanced over at Erik, who offered a quick smile, then turned back to Charles, stood and nodded. Charles instantly pulled the teen into a tight embrace. Alex hesitated a moment before hugging back, burying his face in Charles' shoulder. Charles, despite wanting to hold onto him forever, let go and sat them both on the couch, keeping their legs touching. Erik moved to sit on the coffee table.

Erik finally spoke. "You okay, kid?"

Alex swallowed. "Yeah."

"What happened, Alex?" Charles asked gently.

"I . . . did something . . . stupid."

What did he define as stupid? Was it illegal? "We'll decide that later. Just walk us through it." Only later would Charles realize he was acting as if the three of them were together in this, a done deal.

"Okay." Alex took a breath. "So, with the center closed and all, I hadn't seen Scotty and I was starting to worry about him, right? 'Cause I had no way to talk to him and I know he doesn't like his foster family and he doesn't know that the papers went through." Alex shot Charles a quick smile. "That we're Xaviers now."

Charles smiled back at him. "Yes, you are."

Erik interjected, "But Scott still doesn't know?"

Alex shook his head. "Not yet. I overheard Melanie say she was having trouble getting hold of the Newsons'."

Charles filled in, "Which was another reason you were worrying about Scott."

"Yeah." Alex nodded. "So . . . and this is the stupid part. I found his school and waited for it to let out. When he went to walk home, I kind of intercepted him and we went to this ice cream place I know. He was so happy to see me and hear the news that he was getting out of his foster home."

"Alex," Charles chided, shaking his head.

Alex winced. "I know, I know. Stupid. But I had to see him! You don't know what it's like, not being able to take care of your family. It sucks and he doesn't even really remember our parents dying so when they split us up, it hurt Scott way more."

"Alex," Charles said, "what happened when you took Scott back?"

Alex avoided his gaze. "His foster parents flipped out. They'd called the cops and were talking to them when we walked in. They yanked Scott away from me and the cops practically arrested me. Scott was crying, trying to get to me." He met Charles' gaze, his own bright with tears. "I just know they're hurting him. They didn't tell Scott because they don't want to let him go and I thought that if he knew . . ."

Charles finished for him. "You thought if Scott knew about the adoption that he could get out of the foster home."

". . . . yeah. Stupid, right?"

"A little, yeah." He smiled at the boy.

Erik asked, "Do you have proof that they're physically hurting Scott?"

Charles stared at him in surprise. Okay, yes, he had assumed some form of emotional abuse but to actually purposefully physically _injure_ a child . . . .

"Scott has bruises under his shirt." Alex's voice was matter-of-fact, his gaze now locked on Erik, a sort of hope shining.

Erik's eyes flicked to him and Charles nodded. They had to do something. Scott was legally his and the . . . what was the foster family's name? Anyway, they had no right to keep this information from the boy.

"Okay." Charles stood. "Here's what we're going to do. First, I'm going to get you out of here. Then we're going to get Scott and bring him home. Yes?"

Alex jumped to his feet. "Yes."

"Erik? Coming?"

"Always." Erik threw an arm around Alex's shoulders.

Charles nodded. "Right. Let's go then."

* * *

The lights were on when they pulled up in front of the Newson's house. A car in the drive. Other than that, no signs of life. No shadows moving behind the curtains.

"This is the place?" Erik asked.

In the backseat, Alex confirmed it. "Yeah. I think Scotty's room is upstairs."

Charles nodded. "Okay. Melanie should be here soon and then we can go."

Erik turned the radio on while they waited. It was almost fifteen minutes before Charles' phone beeped. He opened up the text—from Melanie. "Melanie's almost here. She says to go ahead; we've got her permission to do whatever we have to. She says she's bringing backup." He looked up. "She believes us."

"Good." Erik's expression hardened as he turned the engine off. Getting out of the car, they gathered. "Alex, stay behind us and try to keep quiet."

Striding up the yard, Erik pounded on the door. He tried again. As he lifted his fist to try a third time, the door swung open revealing an older man.

"Who the hell are you and what do you want at this time of night?"

Charles lifted an eyebrow at the tone. "My name's Charles Xavier. I see you know who I am. I'm here to pick up Scott. Melanie sent us; she'll be here momentarily."

Mr. Newson glared at him. "He's sleeping."

Alex muttered something but Charles forced a polite smile to his face. "Regardless, Scott will be coming with me tonight."

"I _said_ —"

Erik interrupted, "Maybe you didn't hear him. Scott does not live here anymore. He lives with Charles. If you refuse to let us in, we will sue."

Charles wasn't sure about that but it appeared that Mr. Newson thought he might. With another glare, he stepped back. As Alex followed them through, Mr. Newson reached for him.

"You again!"

Erik swiftly slid between them. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. Now. Which room is Scott in?"

Newson didn't answer.

A worried expression crossed Charles' face and he called out, "Scott? It's Charles! Where are you?"

"I told you, he's sleeping! Why bother him with this?"

Alex shouted, "SCOTTY!"

A _thump_ sounded from above them. Charles shot Erik a startled look and started for the stairs. A woman met him on the landing, blocking his way. He bit back a frustrated sigh. What was going on in this house? "Please move."

"You can't take him!"

"I can. I adopted him." Charles tried to push past her.

"He's my son!"

"No, he's not," Alex snapped.

"Alex."

"Well he's not."

Mrs. Newson looked fearfully between them. "You're not taking him from us."

Erik put a hand on his shoulder. "Allow me."

Charles moved against the wall, pulling Alex with him, and gestured. "Go ahead." He was getting really worried about what sort of condition Scott would be in when they finally reached him.

Erik eyed the woman, then reached out and just pushed her back until she was in the corner. Charles dashed past them and up the rest of the stairs, calling Scott's name again.

A faint "In here" came from the far end. Charles tried the door. He couldn't budge it. "Erik! Erik, it won't open." He could hear the panic in his voice.

Erik yanked on the doorknob, Mrs. Newson rambling on behind them about how they couldn't take Scott away. Mr. Newson was nowhere to be found. Erik turned to Alex and said, "We'll have to break it down. You with me?"

Alex nodded and they slammed their shoulders into the door. On the fourth try, it splintered. Another hit and they stumbled into the room. Charles practically flew inside after them, his eyes flitting all over, searching for the boy. His boy.

"Scotty?" Alex whirled in a circle.

"Where is he?" Charles heard Erik demand of Mrs. Newson but his gaze had fallen on the closet door, blocked by a dresser. They wouldn't. . .

He shoved it aside, flung the door open. . .

Scott collapsed against him, in tears. Charles sunk to his knees in relief, hugging the boy tight. "It's all right. I've got you. You're okay, Scott. Everything's going to be okay."

"Scotty?"

Scott lifted his tear-streaked face and Charles handed him to his brother. Getting to his feet, he made his way to Erik who slid an arm around him as he leaned against the actor. "We need to get them both out of here," he murmured, unwilling to break the moment between the boys but knowing the longer they stayed, the more trouble the Newsons' could cause.

"If you get the kids, I'll make sure we get out," Erik murmured back.

Charles gave him a quick smile. He was extremely grateful that Erik was here.

Mrs. Newson was still in the hallway, completely hysterical by now, as the four of them made their way out of the room and down the stairs. Charles held onto the boys with one hand, Erik with the other. In the front room, Charles discovered why Mr. Newson never made it up after them.

"You have no legal claim on Scott Summers anymore," Melanie was saying. "How many times do I have to tell you this?"

"Melanie, you made it," Charles called in relief. He tightened his grip on Alex's hand—Scott was in his brother's arms—as they joined the duo.

"Yes. And just in time it appears." Melanie scanned the group. "Scott, Alex—you two okay? I heard about what happened earlier."

Alex answered, "I'm okay. Pissed for the most part. Scotty, though, was locked in a closet."

Melanie's head whipped back to Mr. Newson. "What?!"

He started to explain that it was all for Scott's own good but Melanie wouldn't let him finish. "The police are on their way but I really don't think it's a good idea for him to stay here. Charles, take your boys home. Get them out of here."

"Read my mind, Melanie."

She shot him a quick smile. "I'll be in touch."

They left, heading for Charles' apartment. Scott refused to let go of Alex, even climbing into the same bunk together. Once they were sure the boys were settled, Charles and Erik moved to the living room and sat on the couch. Charles leaned against Erik, finally relaxing. "Thank you. For everything."

Erik's lips pressed against his temple. "Glad I could help. I'm rather fond of the kids."

"Mmm," Charles hummed and closed his eyes. "Feeling's mutual."

They sat there for a while, just enjoying being together until Erik shifted and said softly, "I should go. It's late and we both have things to do tomorrow."

Regretfully, Charles pushed away and walked Erik to the door. "I really can't thank you enough for what you did tonight, Erik."

"You're welcome, Charles. I'll swing by tomorrow when I'm free; check on them."

"They'd like that." He smiled faintly and, on an impulse, leaned in.

Erik's lips met his in a kiss, completing the one that had gotten interrupted earlier. Erik pulled him close; Charles wound his arms around his neck and kissed Erik like the past eight years hadn't happened. He was letting himself hope that this wouldn't all just fall apart on him.

When they finally broke apart, Erik looked a little dazed. "Night."

Charles smiled. "Night."


	13. Chapter 13

**I am so sorry this took so long. I kept meaning to put up the next chapter but everytime I went to do it, something else happened. Sorry. There's just one more after this.**

* * *

Charles jerked awake to the sound of his cell phone ringing. "Ngh," he groaned as he rolled over and flung a hand out, scrabbling for his phone as it also vibrated across his nightstand. He always had both settings in case he missed one. He didn't bother opening his eyes to see who it was, just hit the general area of the "answer" button, put it to his ear and mumbled, " 'lo?"

"Come to the center."

He rubbed his face with his free hand. "Wha. . . ?"

"Charles, come to the community center."

Wait, was that. . . ? "Erik? What? Why would. . . "

"Just—come. Bring the kids. I promise it'll be worth it, Charles." Erik hung up before Charles could ask any more questions.

He finally opened his eyes, staring at the now silent phone. "Okay, then," he muttered and reluctantly slid out of his warm bed into the cold apartment and rushed through a shower and getting dressed. It took a bit longer to get the boys up and moving. They were finally starting to relax and settle in after the near disaster a few days ago at the Newsons.

When he finally pulled up to the community center, there were a multitude of cars there. He had a flash of the night it closed nearly two weeks ago and climbed out of his car with trepidation. He tried calling Erik's phone but he didn't pick up. So, telling the boys to stay in the car, Charles headed closer to find out why all these people were here.

There were quite a few vans here, some unmarked and most of them had some sort of . . . satellite dish . . . on top. Wait a minute . . . the light bulb went off in his head a minute later.

Media? At the closed community center? Why? Oh god, not one of his kids . . .

Charles picked up speed, now having spotted a woman in front of the taped-off doors with a microphone in hand. A reporter. But why would Erik want him to see this? And where _was_ Erik, for that matter?

". . . was able to perform a bone fide Christmas miracle for this little community center. . . " the reporter was saying as Charles got within earshot.

What?

He stumbled to a halt.

"Merry Christmas."

Charles jumped. Erik grinned at him. Where had he come from? "Wh—what is all this?" Charles wondered.

"Exactly what it looks like." Erik nodded at the reporter. "Listen."

Charles turned back and watched, stunned, as a police officer joined the female reporter and ripped the police tape off the doors. Charles breathed out, his breath ghosting in front of him, "We're open?"

"And just in time for Christmas."

Eyes bright with unshed tears, Charles turned back to Erik, who was looking very proud of himself. "You did this?" Erik nodded and Charles laughed a little, ran a hand through his hair and stepped close. Grabbing the lapels of Erik's jacket, Charles pulled his head down and kissed him.

Erik's arms came around him a second later, pressing him closer and kissing him back. And oh god, it was just as he remembered. Not like that mere brush of lips from before, not like the kisses at his apartment door (although those were amazing), this was a full on kiss that stole Charles' breath and made his knees weak. They pulled apart, stared at each other for a long minute, and then Erik kissed him again. Charles wound his arms around Erik's neck and held on tight, tilting his head for better access.

The next time they came up for air, Charles breathed, "I can't believe you got it open. How?"

Erik kissed his nose. "Az pulled a few strings."

"Az? How did—how?"

"I told him to promise the mayor anything. I have to take a fan to a premiere—doesn't matter what movie, doesn't have to be mine—and the after party but that's nothing," Erik shrugged.

Charles shook his head. "Unbelievable," he uttered faintly and rested his head against Erik's chest, feeling Erik's heart pound as fast as his own. They were open. It truly was a Christmas miracle. Erik's arms tightened and they simply stood there in the parking lot amongst the hubbub as it started to snow.

The spectators and media personnel left in little groups until eventually it was just them. Charles took a deep breath and pulled out of Erik's embrace. "Well, I suppose we should go in, huh?"

Erik held out an arm. "After you."

Charles turned around, spotting his car. "One sec." Hurrying over, he opened the door and said, "Come on. We've got some cleaning to do if we want to have the place ready for the holidays."

Alex stared at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Erik got the center open again." He held out a hand and Scott crawled across his brother to him. "We're back in business."

Alex climbed out after Scott, looking over at Erik. "Wow. Guess he got his movie ending, after all."

Charles shot him a quizzical look but Scott derailed that line of conversation by dragging them forward. "Do you think the trees are thirsty, Mr. Charles?"

He chuckled, reaching out for Erik's hand as they passed him. "Why don't you and Alex go check on them, Scott? Erik and I will be in my office when you're done, okay?"

Scott nodded, practically skipping down the hall. "Okay!" Alex followed, a small smile on his face as he shoved his hands in his pants pockets.

Erik laced their fingers together. "So. . ." he started as they headed in the opposite direction of the boys. "I assume this gives me brownie points, yes?"

Charles raised an eyebrow at him, amused. "Where are you going with this, Erik?"

"Oh you know. Moira's already threatened me with bodily harm once."

"What?"

Erik shook his head. "She's just looking out for you, like a good friend should. But, anyway. Brownie points."

Charles laughed lightly. "Yes, Erik. Reopening my community center gets you major brownie points. And I will have a word with Moira about threatening my boyfriends."

Erik's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Boyfriends? I feel like this is the time to mention I don't share well with others."

Charles stopped in front of the door to his office and smiled slyly up at Erik. "How do you feel about sharing me with two boys who desperately need a family?"

"Well when you put it like that. . ." Erik smiled back at him and bent down to kiss him. "That I will happily do."

* * *

"Charles."

" _Charles._ "

Startled, Charles looked up. "Mmm?"

Alex said, "You're talking to yourself." He was sitting on the floor behind Charles' desk fiddling with some device Raven had gotten him, Scott in his lap with a coloring book. It was the day after Christmas and he was trying to finish some paperwork before heading out with the boys to meet Erik, Raven and Moira. The girls had both given Erik another form of the you-hurt-him-we-hurt-you speech but for the most part were happy he was happy.

And he was happy. With Erik. With Alex and Scott.

"Oh," Charles said and smiled briefly. "Sorry. I didn't realize I was doing that."

Alex shrugged. "'s okay."

 _Bing._ With a sigh, Charles turned back to his computer. Another email asking for a quote on the Center's sudden reopening. He moved it to his to-reply folder and went back to working on the grant application. The same question stumped him: how was he supposed to answer the demographics question? The application wanted to know ages, genders, where they lived, where their parents worked, how often they came, etc. . .

He didn't even need to know all of this to adopt the boys.

 _Ring ring ring_.

 _Ring ring ri—_ "Hello?" Charles answered absently, trying to find a certain paper in the mess of his desk.

"Um, Charles, I think you need to come out here."

"Mark? What's going on?"

There was a pause. Charles heard someone else talking in the background. Then, "You need to come out to the desk. Now." Mark's voice shook slightly.

Concerned, Charles said, "Okay. Okay, I'm on my way." Getting up, he noticed Alex watching him and said, "I'll be right back."

Down the hall, around the corner and he could hear a raised voice. Male. Upset. Mark calling for help didn't occur all that often, having volunteered here for a few years now. They didn't have many altercations that required Mark to call for help. He was better at that than he was at paperwork, surprisingly. That he did so now was concerning. Just ahead was the open space between the front doors and the main desk. A man stood in front of the desk.

"Hello, is there something I can help you with?" Charles said, his tone aimed to be welcoming.

The man whirled to face him as Charles stopped by the desk. The man looked familiar but Charles couldn't quite place him. "Charles Xavier."

He blinked. "Yes. Is there something I can help you with, Mr. . . .?"

"Give me the kid back!"

Feeling lost, Charles glanced at Mark then back to the man. "I'm sorry. I'm going to need a bit more information than that."

"You took him away! You have no idea what that did to her!" The man took a couple steps forward, pushing into Charles' personal space and forcing him back. He was livid, one fist clenched at his side.

 _Wait . . . ._ Speaking slowly, Charles replied, "Sir, there is no need to yell at me. Just tell me who you are and why you think I have your son."

"Mr. Newson?" A confused little voice came from behind and they all turned to look. Charles clenched his jaw briefly. Scott and Alex stood in the hallway, despite Charles telling them to stay in his office.

"I knew you had him!" The man lunged for Scott.

Scott flinched, Alex pulled him back and Charles flung himself between them.

"Now, wait just a minute," Charles said firmly. _Ah._ Scott's former foster dad. Now the man's anger made sense. "Okay. Look, Mr. Newson, is it? I did not take Scott from you and your wife. You were a temporary home until he was adopted, which I did," Charles stated.

"You don't understand." Newson's hands moved, doing something in his coat.

"Whoa," Charles said, voice rising. He took a step to the side—away from the kids—and raised his hands. "Hold on, now. There's no need for violence." It was a struggle to keep his voice even as he found himself staring at the barrel of a gun. His heart started racing.

Newson glared at him, his face red. " _You have no idea what you've done!"_

"Alex, take Scott into one of the rooms. _Now_ ," he added when it looked like Alex wasn't going to listen.

 _Bang!_

Charles flinched. A puff of concrete dust floated past his left side. He swallowed. This was escalating far too quickly. And there were far too many innocents around who could get hurt.

Newson ordered, "They stay." He gripped the gun with both hands.

Charles took a shaking breath. _Think. Come on, think your way out of this_. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mark waving. Charles dipped his head slightly, letting Mark know he saw him. Mark put a hand to his face, made some sort of motion with it then tapped his watch and held up both hands, fingers splayed.

"My wife can't have kids. We tried and we tried but nothing worked. It costs so much to adopt so we thought we'd try fostering someone who had had trouble getting adopted. When we got Scott . . . she changed. She was so full of life, more than I'd ever seen her before." Newson was talking again, Charles only half paying attention.

Oh. _Oh._ Mark was telling Charles that he had called the police! Ten minutes out. Okay, now he just had to keep Newson from shooting anyone. Right. . .

Newson continued, "Do you have _any_ idea the lengths we went to trying to get him to forget that worthless piece of shit he called brother? And then come to find out they WERE MEETING BEHIND OUT BACKS! AT THIS FUCKING COMMUNITY CENTER! BECAUSE OF YOU!" The gun wavered slightly.

Movement out of the corner of his eye alerted Charles to the fact that more of the kids were gathering, drawn by the noise. Crap. Not good.

"Look," he started again.

 _Bang!_

It took a minute for his heart to start beating again. That was close. Oh god.

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD YOU RUINED EVERYTHING WE HAD WORKED FOR!" Newson was fully focused on Charles.

His breaths came in short bursts as he struggled to figure out a way out of this. "What do you mean, everything you'd worked for?" Keeping him talking was the only idea Charles could come up with quickly.

"That bitch, Melanie, told us we weren't getting him back and Caitlin . . . she. . ." Newson's voice shook. "Losing the boy broke her. Destroyed her." The gun steadied and his voice became quiet, determined. "I'm going to destroy you like you destroyed her."

Several things happened at once:

The gun went off.

Newson seemed to bend in two, thrown forward.

Someone shouted, possibly several someones.

And Charles hit the wall, his head bouncing off it painfully.

Struggling to catch his breath, Charles blinked several times and tried to figure out what the hell had just happened. Reaching up to check the back of his head, pain exploded in his left arm and he cried out in surprise and pain. A glance to the side showed blood blossoming across the fabric covering his left bicep. He swayed as the full force of the injury caught up to him, knees buckling, breaths coming in short bursts.

Charles gradually became aware of someone saying his name repeatedly. "—les, hey, come on. Charles, look at me. _Charles_ , please, come on . . ."

He opened his eyes. Erik's worried expression met his gaze. "Hey," Charles breathed.

Erik let his breath out in a huff, half-smiling in relief. "Hey, yourself."

"When did you . . . get here?"

"Right before that sonuvabitch shot you."

"The kids . . .?"

"They're fine. You, however, are not." Erik's gaze shifted to Charles' arm. "Jesus, Charles, what the hell happened? Alex, find me a first aid kit!" he shouted without looking away and began unbuttoning Charles' shirt.

Charles bit his lip as a fresh wave of pain swept through him. Oh god, it hurt. "Um, Mark . . . he, uh, he called for help. _Ah_ ," he hissed, "and . . . he wa—was yelling about . . . me taking his kid."

"His kid?" Erik questioned, carefully pulling the fabric over his shoulder.

Charles winced. " _Oww_ ," he hissed.

"I know it hurts, babe, but I have to stop the bleeding." Erik stopped. "Thanks, kid."

Alex asked tremulously, "Charles, are you gonna be okay?"

Charles reached out with his good hand, found Alex's hand and squeezed. "It's just my arm. . . Alex. I'll be . . . _ah_ fine. _Ow_ , Erik!"

Erik ignored him as he continued to pull Charles' shirt sleeve down. "So who is this guy? I feel like I know him but I can't place him."

Alex answered as Charles found himself unable to speak, gritting his teeth against the pain. "Scott's former foster father. Something must have happened after you picked up Scott and he just totally fucking flipped out."

"Don't . . . swear," Charles grunted. Sweat stung his eyes.

Erik told him, "This is going to hurt."

"More than it does already?"

"Have to check for an exit wound."

"How the . . . _hell_. . . do you know," he winced, "about that?"

Erik kissed his sweaty forehead. "I did actually learn something when I was acting. Hold on to Alex."

Charles let out a cry as Erik probed the wound, his hand tightening on Alex's as much as possible. Tears trickled from the corners of his eyes.

"Okay, so it went all the way through," Erik stated, his voice shaking slightly. "That's good."

"I think we . . . have different . . . definitions . . . of good," Charles gasped, closing his eyes as he heard Erik rummaging through the first aid kit. It hurt so much . . . . . . .

"—mn it, Charles, open your eyes!"

It was the effort of a lifetime to lift his eyelids. Erik's eyes narrowed, fear flashing through them. "Don't do that! Stay awake, okay? The ambulance should be here any minute."

"Hurts," he said plaintively.

"I know, sweetheart, just keep those beautiful blue eyes on me, okay?" In an aside, Erik added, "Keep pressure on it, Alex."

Charles managed a nod, just then noticing that Alex was on his other side. When had that happened?

The sound of sirens filled the air a couple minutes later. "Mark!" Erik called and Charles flinched at the abrupt shout then winced as he tugged on his arm. "Meet them at the door. Warren, Pietro, Wanda, keep everyone back."

"Erik?" Charles breathed, several questions in that exhalation.

Erik cupped his cheek, brushing away tears. "It's going to be okay. Police are here with the paramedics. Newson's restrained and I've got Warren and the twins calming the little ones. Everyone's good."

"Scott?"

"Right here next to Alex. A little shaken but he's okay."

Things progressed quickly once the cops and paramedics flooded in. Charles soon found himself sitting on the edge of the ambulance wrapped in a blanket—his arm now bandaged—and leaning against Erik as the cops herded Mr. Newson into the back of one of the squad cars. The paramedics were on their way back from checking him for injuries.

One of them had given Charles something for the pain and it was finally starting to kick in but it was also making him sleepy. Erik's arm tightened around his shoulders, lips pressing against the side of his head. "I love you," Erik murmured.

Charles reached up to grip Erik's hand and let his eyes slip shut, confident that Erik wouldn't let him fall. "I should . . . call . . . . Ray. . . . and Moira. . . and Melanie. . . "

"I'll take care of it. We'll grab the kids and get out of here, yeah?"

"Mhm . . . yeah." Charles drifted in and out of consciousness, only refocusing when Erik moved. "Mmm what . . . ?"

Erik scooped Charles into his arms. "We're leaving. The police will send someone by tomorrow to get the rest of your statement. But until then, you are on bed rest."

"'s'long as it's . . . your bed. . ." Charles mumbled. "Hotel beds're. . . .comfy."

"Of course, love."

* * *

Erik drew the covers over Charles' sleeping body and breathed a sigh of relief. That had been too close. Way too close. Planning to surprise them by picking the three of them up at the center, Erik had never imagined he'd be stopping a shooter.

Although, he didn't exactly do a good job. Charles still got hurt.

Things like that tend to make a person reexamine things. The realization that he'd nearly lost Charles for good had him rethinking certain things.

 _I am not losing you again,_ he thought, watching Charles sleep.

Flicking the light off, Erik headed out to the main area to check on the kids. He'd made up his mind but wanted to make sure the boys were okay with it.

Alex turned to him, worried. "Is he gonna be okay?"

Erik sat down across from them. "Yes. Tired and he'll have a little trouble using his arm for a couple weeks, but Charles is going to be just fine."

"Good."

An awkward silence fell.

"Listen," Erik started, "there's something I want to ask you two. Alex, you know about my past with Charles."

Alex nodded. "You were gonna get married but fucked it up."

"Don't swear. Or at least use a different word. Anyway, I want to try again. And I . . . I want to know if—"

"If we're okay with you marrying Charles?" Alex finished.

Scott looked between them. "Wait, does this mean we're gonna have two dads? Is that a good thing?"

Erik leaned forward, catching the young boy's gaze. "Would that be okay with you, Scott? If I stuck around for a while?"

Scott studied him, an unusually serious look on the nine-year-old's face. "You won't lock him in the closet? You won't yell at him?"

These were the top concerns for him. Erik's heart broke a little. "No, Scott," he answered softly. "I won't do that to Charles. I won't hurt him if I can help it."

"But you might hurt him?" He looked terrified of the possibility.

Erik looked at Alex for help.

Alex shook his head, biting back a smile. Erik frowned at him. How did one explain relationships to a kid? "Scott . . . you love Alex, yes?"

"Lots!"

"But you don't always get along with him, do you? You disagree on things? You argue with him? Maybe fight a little?"

"I s'pose so."

"But you still love him."

"'course I do!" Scott shot him a disdainful look, as if Erik should never have even thought that was possible. He hid a smile.

"And Alex loves you. Well, it's like that with me and Charles. I love Charles and Charles loves me. But that doesn't mean we won't still fight about things at times. He might get mad at me and I might get mad at him; we might raise our voices. But that doesn't mean we love each other any less. Does that make sense?"

Scott tilted his head, clearly thinking it over. "I . . . think so. So, you want to be my daddy, too?"

"Very much so."

"Okay."

Relieved, Erik said, "Okay. Okay. Alex?"

Alex shrugged. "I'm not calling you dad."

"I can deal with that. But I have your permission?" This was important.

Another serious Summers look. He shrugged. "Yeah, alright. Try not to fuck it up this time."

Erik rolled his eyes. "Thanks. And stop swearing."

"So I'm assuming you've already got something in mind?"

"I do. Can I count on the two of you to help?"


	14. Chapter 14

**Final chapter. Thanks for reading**

* * *

Mark burst into Charles' office, red-faced and out of breath. "Charles, you gotta come quick!"

He looked up in surprise. "What is it?" He had a flash of Mr. Newson returning and fear spiked through him, his shoulder twinging slightly. He rubbed it absently.

Mark shook his head. "Alex. And Warren. They're fighting in the gym! I can't find Erik. Please, you gotta come quick before they kill each other!"

Charles hurried down the hall. What had happened? He'd thought Alex and Warren had managed to find a truce of sorts. What had changed?

He could hear voices in the gym but as he drew closer, he heard nothing that would indicate a fight was going on. Maybe Erik had stepped in?

Brow furrowed, he pushed open the door, stepped inside and froze.

There was no fight.

Warren wasn't even present.

Alex was, however.

And Scott.

And Erik, wearing a suit.

"What's going on?" Charles asked, confused, as he strode forward. "Mark said Alex and Warren were fighting?"

Alex grinned as Erik responded, "Just making sure you came."

". . . and why would you need to do that?" He stopped a couple feet away from Erik, glancing between the three.

"Because there's something I need to ask you." Erik dropped down to one knee.

Charles gasped, covering his mouth with a hand. He shot a quick glance to Alex and Scott, both of whom simply grinned.

"Charles Francis Xavier, I love you. I've loved you since you let me kiss you after our first date back in college. We've always stood by each other, always supporting each other. I know our first try at this didn't go well but I never stopped loving you. And I know now that you never stopped loving me. Marry me, Charles. I don't have a ring but I can get one. Or you can pick one out. I promise, I will put you first for the rest of my life. Marry me again, Charles."

Charles' throat had tightened with emotion. It wasn't like the first time, where they had been surrounded by everyone they knew at a party.

It was better. Because it was just them and the boys.

Just their family.

Charles lowered his hand, fighting to control his emotions. Never, in all his planning and realizations in the last few weeks, had he imagined _this_ happening. What couple got engaged twice in less than a decade?

But Erik meant it. He could see it in his eyes. Charles could see just how much Erik loved him and it shoved past every single wall Charles had ever erected. Could they make it work this time?

"Yes."

The word slipped out of his lips on an exhale.

Charles nodded, laughing. "Yes, Erik. Yes, I'll marry you. Again."

Erik stood and pulled him into a kiss. Erik kissed his cheeks, his eyes, found his mouth again. "I promise you won't regret it," Erik murmured against his lips.

Charles smiled, kissed him again. "I believe you." He laughed. "I can't believe you tricked me into coming here so you could propose! How did you get Mark in on it?"

Erik shrugged, tucking him against his side. "That was all Alex."

Charles leaned around Erik to look at him. "Alex? You and Scott are okay with this?" In retrospect, he probably should have checked with them before answering.

Alex nodded. "We gave him permission a couple days ago."

"Oh you did, did you?" Charles let out a little laugh and shook his head in disbelief.

Erik kissed his cheek. "Scott, remember your job?"

Scott said, "Oh yeah," and took off running for the gym door. Charles watched him, wondering what next?

Raven walked in, smiling widely, followed by Moira who was walking next to . . . .

Charles' knees went weak and he leaned on Erik. A minister was walking up to them. He met Erik's happy gaze. "You were that certain I'd say yes?"

"I'd hoped. I'm not taking the chance of losing you again. So, Charles, what do you say?"

Charles looked at his sister. Raven smiled and nodded. "He makes you happy, Charles."

He turned to Moira. Her smile was a little tighter than Raven's. "Whatever you want, Charles, is what we want. If Erik is what you want—and I can see that light that's been missing in your eyes is back—then go for it. I just want you to be happy."

His heart full to bursting, Charles looked up at his fiancé. He held back another laugh, this one of joy rather than disbelief. "Let's do it."

The minister stepped up to them. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today . . . . . ."

* * *

 **Epilogue**

A year and a half later. . . . . . .

Cameras flash.

People shout, trying to catch the eye of their favorite celebrity. Some want an autograph; most want selfies.

Men in tuxedos and women in evening gowns pose for photos for the press and move on to brief interviews.

Limousines pull up, unload, and drive off.

Press try to grab whomever they can for live on-camera conversations about upcoming projects, outfits, tidbits about their lives.

Amidst the noise and frenzy, Erik Lensherr walks away from the photo line when he's done and moves to the crowd of fans lining the other side of the fencing instead of the first interviewer in the line. He smiles, waves, greets the people who have been waiting hours to see that one celebrity they're dying to see. Autographs are given. Selfies are taken. He laughs, enjoying himself—it's been a while and he'd forgotten how much he enjoyed this part—but his eyes are always moving. Always scanning the red carpet as if in search of something.

Or someone.

Eventually, he reaches one of the members of the press on the carpet. She smiles as he leans over to kiss her cheek. "Nice of you to join us, Erik," she teases, having watched him with the fans.

Erik grins. "Déjà vu, huh, Michelle?"

"I know," Michelle grins, "It's good to see you. Always starting with the fans, I see."

"They keep us in business." Erik turns at the sound of a group screaming his name and waves. "Gotta keep them happy."

"Last time we talked . . . I think it was the premiere of your last movie. _Battle Magic_ , right?"

"I believe so."

"Goodness, that was so long ago. A year? Year and a half?"

He laughs. "Yeah, something like that."

"What have you been doing since then? Why haven't we heard anything about a sequel? _Battle Magic_ did so well at the box office, I'd have thought we'd be hearing about a release date by now."

Erik shrugs, turning to scan the red carpet crowd. "I took some time off. I needed a break. As for a sequel? Well, your guess is as good as mine. I have no clue if they even planned for a sequel when they wrote the script for _Battle Magic_."

There's a pause in the interview as an actress friend comes up to give Erik a hug and hello. Then Michelle asks, "So, Erik, you're presenting tonight, right?"

"That's right. Oscar Award for Best Actor." He chuckles, glancing around again. "Hope I don't misread the teleprompter."

She laughs lightly. "So what's it like being back here after your time away? Does this mean we'll see you back on the big screen again soon?"

His face suddenly lights up, a wide smile crossing his face. Michelle shoots a questioning glance at her cameraman as Erik turns towards a shorter man approaching out of the crowd.

"There you are," Erik says, reaching out to pull the man into a kiss.

The roar of the fans drowns out everything else for a moment and Michelle's mouth drops open. Cell phones and cameras are all aimed at the couple. They pull apart and Charles smiles up at him. "Sorry, I ran into Tony Stark. Quite literally."

"Do I have to tell him to keep his hands off you again?"

Charles laughs lightly, and leans in to kiss him on the cheek. "Not to worry, love. Tony's quite enamored with Pepper. And I with you." He suddenly puts a hand on Erik's chest and smiles at Michelle. "Now come on, we're being rude."

Erik slides an arm around his waist, tucking Charles against his side, and turns back around. He tosses a smile and a wave at the fans.

Michelle's thrown for a loop, unsure what to do with this surprise.

A fan's voice rises above the noise, calling out a question about who Charles is.

Erik cups a hand around his mouth and calls back, "My husband! His name's Charles!"

Charles turns red and Erik grins as the fans collectively awwwwwww.

Erik turns back to Michelle. "So sorry about that. What was the question again?"

Michelle blinks rapidly, glances at the camera. "Uh, um, well, I was just saying that it's been a while since we've seen you at any sort of event like this."

Erik nods. "Yeah. I took a few months off to marry the love of my life and we had a long honeymoon." He glances at Charles with a soft smile. Charles smiles back and they kiss.

Michelle starts to get her groove back, returning to her original line of questioning as she ignores Charles. "So does this mean you've got something in the works? You're back acting again?"

Erik shrugs. "It'd have to work with my family and our schedule."

Michelle looks shocked again. "F-family?"

"Oh yeah. Charles and I adopted two wonderful boys and I don't really want to do anything that'll adversely affect them or Charles and me, so we'll see. Maybe in a few years, once our oldest is done with high school."

Someone with a clipboard comes up to them and taps Erik on the shoulder.

"Guess that's it for now." Erik smiles at her. "See you inside, Michelle."

"Thanks for the chat, Erik. Hope to see you again soon." As an afterthought, she adds, "Nice to meet you, Charles."

The couple follows the woman with the clipboard and the camera pans to follow them. They reach the open space in front of the doors, forced to a stop by the press of stars flooding in. The camera zooms in as the couple steals a kiss. A moment later, Erik and Charles are lost to view.

Michelle mutters in a low voice, "Tell me you got that."

Cameraman says smugly, "Oh yeah. I got it."

The shot of Charles and Erik kissing is included with the headline for the next day's celebrity gossip. "Cherik" is coined and soon rivals Brangelina in fan popularity.

The end.


End file.
